My Ruined Universe
by Anubis Enfield
Summary: Every time they did something, the world shifted off course like a rocket crashing before it gets off the landing pad. Repeatedly. Digging another nail into my mind, screaming at me. "You don't know what you're doing. What you've done. You've changed so many things you don't even realize. The future is ruined and I'm going to make it right."
1. Chapter 1

**This is one I thought of after binging Steins;Gate and Steins;Gate 0. This is set from an alternate universe, though not for long. Therefore, it is important to know...**

**HISTORY IN THIS UNIVERSE IS**** DIFFERENT!**

**An example mentioned is Stalin took over after WWII, not Hitler (which you'll see down below, so don't get confused just yet). As I said though, this will switch to the Doctor Who universe. Just thought it'd be interesting to see the Doctor deal with someone clever but _terrified_ of making mistakes with time. There will also be switches to memories of hers often, so apologies if it gets a little confusing.**

**Warning: Hints of torture, child neglect, abuse and PTSD-like symptoms... I got a little carried away.**

* * *

"Fuel, check. Air shield, check. All systems go. Mr. Smith, is everything in order?"

A stuffed rabbit wearing a paper cap sat nearby and the little girl grinned.

"Time and year are set, Captain!" She answered herself for the rabbit, turning to the cardboard buttons she'd drawn onto the empty cabinet packaging with a crayon. "Then, buckle up! We're going back in time!"

She went to press the buttons, only for the loud slam of a door to stop her, making her flinch as voices began to shout in the other room. Hesitantly, she grabbed Mr. Smith and slowly poked her head over the top of the box. Her parents were fighting again. About _her_, again. It was well past her bedtime, but her mother was drunk and didn't care about her nightmares. Her father was frustrated and couldn't be home to help due to work. His frustration was quick to take hold of him though, so the little girl wrapped her arms around the rabbit tighter and sat back down in the box.

"It's all right, Mr. Smith. We'll go back in time before the dinosaurs even! Maybe then… Maybe then, everyone will be happy again."

* * *

Loud clattering came from the basement and a grease-covered face came out from under a panel of a large garden shed with a grin.

"I think I've done it. I think I've finally done it!"

The figure, a young woman, rushed past a ragged stuffed rabbit sitting on her workbench and grabbed a metal cube from a box of other metal parts.

"This is the last piece," she murmured, diving into the shed and grabbing a cable, hastily attaching it to the cube. "Come on, come on, come on," she begged, closing her eyes as she turned the top of the cube, and the inside of the shed hummed to life.

"I… I did it…" She breathed out, opening her eyes and looking around with a grin and bark of laughter. "Ah-ha! I actually did it! I created a time machine!"

Her celebration stopped abruptly as she realized something.

"Oh… I don't even know if it works."

She hurried to the smaller prototype and clasped her hands before it in prayer.

"Please, work."

She flipped a switch on the smaller box and received a satisfying click from the garden shed behind her. Laughing once more, she set an old television on the workbench and fiddled with it for a while before hooking it up to the prototype. With a hard smack to the top of the television, the screen came to life to show a live image of herself from the garden shed's perspective.

"Perfect." She smiled, flipping switches on the prototype. "Fuel, check. Shielding, check. Camouflage?" She glanced back at the shed. "Check. All systems go."

She turned her gaze to the rabbit then, patting it on the head with a soft smile.

"Are you ready, Mr. Smith?"

The rabbit didn't answer, of course, but the woman didn't mind.

"And… _go_."

She flipped the final switch and with a loud grinding, the garden shed vanished; the gust and noise sending her to the ground with a blink.

"Note to self: find a better way to make it depart and land silently."

She scrambled to her feet though, looking at the television and hitting it as the screen showed static.

"Come on, come on. Give me a clear picture!"

With a final hit, the static cleared, and her mouth dropped open in shock. The garden shed had landed—surprisingly unnoticed—in an alley just off the main road. Crossing in front of it were various men and women in Victorian clothing and hansom cabs being driven past.

"I-I did it… Ha… I actually _did_ it," she breathed out, having to grab the workbench behind her as she started to feel lightheaded at her accomplishment.

She did a few more tests then, sending it even further back and attempting to send it ahead of her timeline. It hadn't phased out at all for the third test and a sigh of relief escaped her. She had never wanted to see the future, so that failure was a good thing. She brought it back and was pleased when it landed near silently. _It just needed a few goes before landing and leaving silently. Like an old car warming up in cold weather._ Pleased and suddenly feeling the sleepless nights catching up to her, she disconnected the prototype, shut down and locked the garden shed turned time machine, and headed upstairs to bed. Not knowing the trouble she'd end up in, in the next few weeks.

* * *

It happened in an instant. She had been called out at work and brought into another room where her boss apologized, and everything went black. Then, she woke up, dazed and memory fogged.

"Apologies, Miss Hawthorne, for the rough treatment. It was necessary. We couldn't have you resisting or knowing where you were."

"Wha… What do you want? What's going on?" She asked, trying to clear the fog in her head as she looked at the man before her.

He was older, in his mid-forties perhaps, with salt and pepper hair and a blank expression hiding behind his sunglasses and suit.

"You're clever, Miss Hawthorne. Any moron with eyes could see that, so we kept an eye on you. You work on space travel, time travel, quantum physics… it's respectable. We had hoped to recruit you before you did anything _too_ big, and then we saw this."

He turned a laptop around and pushed it towards her. The screen showed her in her basement a few moments before the screen went to static and the picture returned—no garden shed in sight. She paled for a moment before carefully schooling her expression into an uncharacteristically blank one.

"As you can see, we've missed our opportunity, but not entirely," the man stated. "We're still offering you a position as chief of our scientific engineers."

"Why? What do you want?" She almost spat out and the man watched her for a moment before answering.

"We've already taken your machine and transported it to our labs, but you're the only one who knows how to work it, how to make more. We want you to show us how it works and provide more resources in order to better help this country," he said seriously. "I'm sure I don't need to explain to you how close we are to the brink of war with the Chinese. With this technology, we could—"

"No," she cut him off, eyes cold. "I won't help you. I didn't make this machine to change things in the past or to use as a weapon. It was made to _observe_, to study events in the past and make better records of them in order to learn—"

Her head snapped to the side as the man slapped her and leaned forward towards the chair she was restrained to.

"I _doubt_ you made a vacationing device out of this, so don't _lie_ to me," he snarled, and she closed her eyes with a slow exhale as the man straightened. "You _will_ help us eventually. I had hoped you would just agree to help further your own goals and avoid this, but if you wish to be stubborn, then we will just do this the hard way."

He turned to two men by the door and nodded; a silent signal for them to remove the woman from the room.

"I hope you'll come to see things our way soon, Miss Hawthorne. For your sake."

* * *

She broke after two months of struggling, fighting, trying to get them to see reason. She had no chance trapped in that cold room of pain. No way to do anything, to change anything. Words meant nothing to them, so she would have to show them.

"Ready to explain now, Miss Hawthorne?" The man—Agent Rivers—questioned her and she didn't answer.

She just shoved a small notebook into his hands and stepped into the garden shed. She only hoped it would kill them in travel, having not yet put a living being inside it during flight. It had been next on her list of things to test if she hadn't been taken in by the government. Rivers had passed the notebook—the instructions on how to pilot the time machine—to the nearest scientist and stepped into the shed with her.

"Date, time and coordinates?" She asked, voice void of emotion.

He gave her a series of numbers that she input into the machine before sending it off. She was jerked across the room and her back rammed into another console before she was able to get a grip on a railing. Rivers was quicker to grab one, so he remained unharmed as the shed landed.

"Curious," he said, brushing himself off. "What changed your mind? Two months is a long time to stay silent."

She shot him a look, straightening with a cringe at the ache in her back.

"Shouting at a wall won't change anyone's mind. The only way to get you to understand is to show you how wrong you are."

Rivers let out a short chuckle that sounded more like a scoff as they headed out. He smirked upon seeing where they were, but she frowned.

"Where—"

A door opened on the other side of the room and a man stepped through. Her eyes went wide as she recognized the man's features—his cold eyes and bald head—but it was the symbols on his military jacket that really gave it away. The man's cold eyes locked onto them, but before he could get a word out, there was a loud "bang". Hawthorne jumped, eyes going wide as she looked at Rivers' smoking gun, and the man across the way cursed in Russian—falling to the floor.

"Y-You… You just…"

"Come on, time to go," Rivers said, grabbing her arm and pulling her back to the time machine, but she struggled.

"No… No! You just killed him! You _killed_ Stalin! Y-You can't just do that! Do you know what you've done! A-All the consequences! How you've changed the future… Don't you realize—"

"That I just killed the man who _killed __**thousands**__?_" Rivers said back, voice calm. "The man who assisted in genocide, started World War II and has been doing _nuke_ testing? Oh, a future without Stalin. What a _horrible_ thing," he scoffed sarcastically, shoving her to the console. "Take us back."

She hesitated, but did so, head aching with the possibilities of the changed future. Yet, a part of her hoped the changed world would help them see how poorly things would turn out if they continued. They stepped out to applause from the other government workers and Rivers jeered down at her.

"See? No apocalypse, no universal destruction, _nothing_." He snapped his fingers and two men took hold of her. "Send her home. She's given us what we needed but place her under house arrest. No leaving. All necessities will be delivered. All phone and communication lines cut off." He smirked at her stunned face. "Welcome to the government, Miss Hawthorne."

* * *

It hurt. _Physically_ hurt. She wasn't sure what was wrong other than… well, everything. They had kept going. Back in time, trying to go forward in time. The changes hadn't appeared so significant at first, but she could tell. She wasn't sure how, but she could remember the timeline before things changed. She knew the differences now. Everything was wrong, and she was the only one who knew.

She hadn't noticed at first, with the death of Stalin being so much of a shock. She hadn't noticed they were speaking German instead of English until she was forced home and saw the news—_heard_ the news. After that, the changes became more obvious. A man named Hitler had taken over where Stalin had been, leading the world into a time with German as the main language. Then, came World War III, decades early and by the Japanese, Africans, Spanish and Italians instead of the Chinese. Space travel was set back dozens of years, hover-crafts were invented before planes, and a race of AIs had begun to surface demanding rights. The universe was falling apart, and she was right at the center of it.

She felt she had to do something to make it right and, after many years of silence to get the guards and cameras removed, she finally had a way to accomplish her goal: to reset time. They hadn't taken the prototype and with some fiddling—and destruction of a number of electronics for parts—she had used it as the base for a second time machine. It was more fragile than the original and she didn't expect it to last more than one or two trips, but that was all she needed to make things right. She just needed an opportunity to stop this mess before it happened, and this would be her only chance.

She set the date, time and coordinates, taking one last look around her home before turning to Mr. Smith and patting the stuffed rabbit on the head.

"Goodbye, Mr. Smith."

She placed her hand on the machine and set it off, cringing at the pain it sent through her body. The prototype had very little to shield her on the trip, but she wasn't expecting to make it back. After all, this version of her wouldn't exist at the end of this. She landed harshly, collapsing on the ground in pain but forcing herself up onto her feet to face the stunned person standing across from her, beside a garden shed.

"Don't," she said hastily, leaning up against the garage wall as her younger self stared in shocked fascination. "Don't finish it. You can't."

Her younger self looked her over with a serious frown. "What happened?"

"The government. They're watching. Everything." She shook her head. "I can't explain but destroy it. They can't get a hold of it. It's too soon."

Her younger self hesitated but soon nodded, moving to grab an ax up on the wall until there was a rumble and a garden shed appeared in the opposite corner of the room. Hawthorne panicked, eyes going wide as her younger self paused in uncertainty. Rivers stepped out of the shed and Hawthorne took a step away from the wall, an angry expression on her face.

"You don't know what you're doing. What you've done. You've changed so many things you don't even realize."

"And this world is a better place because of it," Rivers stated, reaching into his suit as Hawthorne shook her head.

"The future is _ruined_ and I'm going to make it right."

She rushed to grab the ax as a "bang" rang out and stopped her in her tracks. Red blossomed on her shirt and her face twisted in pain as she fell to her knees.

"I'm sorry, Miss Hawthorne," Rivers said, lowering his pistol. "But I can't let you do that."

She glared at him from over her shoulder, pressing a hand to the swiftly bleeding wound in her gut as the agent turned his weapon to the other woman in the room. "And I apologize, Miss Hawthorne, but I can't risk you planning the same."

"No!"

Her younger self was shot through the head, dead before she hit the ground. Hawthorne clenched her fist, her eyes tightly closed as her headache flared at the paradox. Already, her presence was fading due to the murder of her younger self, but she wouldn't let him get away with it. With one last burst of energy, she threw herself into the garden shed—locking the door and struggling to put coordinates into the prototype still in her hands.

"Just come out, Miss Hawthorne," Rivers called. "It's over. There's nothing left that you can do, so don't make this harder than it needs to be."

"Shut up," she snapped, grinning as the prototype hummed to life. "You should have read my papers more thoroughly."

"What are you doing?" Rivers questioned, starting to grow concerned.

"Do you know what happens when you put a time machine inside another time machine?"

Rivers grew even more panicked, tugging on the door now. "Hawthorne! What are you doing!"

"I hypothesized… in one of my papers…" She grunted out, sliding to the ground, out of breath from her injury. "That there were a few possible answers. The main one being the cancellation of the existence of both… trapping them in a never-ending loop of existence a-and non…"

"Hawthorne!"

It was too late. The garden shed vanished. The prototype gone. Young Rebecca Hawthorne's existence was erased. Rivers was reset to a life without her being surveyed. Time was redone. She had done what she set out to do, but she would _never_ expect that her hypothesis would have one more element.

* * *

Time had stopped moving for a minute or twenty. She wasn't sure, but for some time the pain in her stomach had gone, directions had been meaningless, thoughts that had once been in her head were missing. Then, it all came back. Pain, anger, sorrow, aches and bruising. Time had been restored and she had been thrust out and dropped in an alleyway. Both time machines were gone, yet she was somewhere—alive and breathing. _How?_

She looked around wearily, absentmindedly wondering if a hospital was nearby as she glanced down at her blood-soaked shirt. She wouldn't last much longer, but her mind wouldn't stop spinning—theories as to how she was alive, what happened and how she ended up in another location buzzed in her head. She couldn't connect the dots though, not in the shape she was in. And as darkness started to pull her in, she almost gave up. _I destroyed a whole world… so many people died because of me… I deserve this, don't I?_

As she lost consciousness, however, she missed seeing a blue police box appear and a man stepping out. He looked into the distance at a tall building with a frown and turned to leave the alleyway if he hadn't spotted her. The moment he saw blood, he rushed to her side and checked the wound with a grimace.

"Oh, what have you gotten into?" He murmured, scooping her up and rushing her to the building he'd been looking at before: Royal Hope Hospital.

* * *

She woke up after surgery in a dazed confusion, unsure where she was once more or how she got there. A man sat at her bedside, arms crossed over his chest and breathing softly—sleeping, it seemed. _Did he find me?_ She wondered, feeling tired once more as a depressing thought drifted through her mind. _Why? He should have left me…_

When she woke again, the man was gone but his coat had been left behind—draped over his empty seat. It hardly mattered when the doctor came to check on her and began questioning her about the gunshot wound. Not knowing where or _when_ she was, she feared giving out her name and claimed amnesia. It was the easiest option for her to not raise suspicion or end up being a permanent fixture in the Psychiatric Department. The man had returned at the end of the questioning, getting a quick rundown from the doctor before joining her by her bed.

"Hello!" He grinned, causing Hawthorne to smile a little in return. "You gave me quite the scare, lying in that alleyway like that."

"Sorry," she apologized, already liking the happy-go-lucky man. "Didn't mean to get shot, I'm sure."

He cracked another smile at that, sitting in his chair and nodding at her. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Sore, like I was shot." She shrugged with a cringe. "Pain meds are decent enough."

"And?" He urged, not talking about physical well-being now.

Hawthorne wasn't sure how to answer him. Mentally, she was still reeling over what she'd done and how she was still alive. She'd been prepared to die when she brought the two time machines together, so living at this point felt almost like a punishment. Now, she had to consciously live with her decisions and the memory of the consequences.

"Lost," she finally admitted, not looking at him and turning her gaze out the window. "I don't know where I am, _when_ it is, how I got here. And I've been shot. I upset someone, but who was more in the wrong? Could have been me. I might have deserved it."

_I __**do**__ deserve it. I __**destroyed**__ an entire future. People __**died**__. __**I**__ died. Rivers might have been a bad guy, but I started the whole thing. __**I**__ made the time machine. For my own selfish reasons. We weren't ready. The human species wasn't ready for something like that—something like time travel. I could feel it too. Every time they did something, the world shifted off course like a rocket crashing before it gets off the landing pad. Repeatedly. Digging another nail into my mind, screaming at me._

"_Look what they've done! It's wrong! Everything is wrong!"_

_I have to fix it. It's all my fault. Why? Why did I build that damn machine? Why didn't I think of the consequences? Of what could happen if they got a hold of it? We're all so greedy. Tainting time with selfish events and desires that should never be._

"_We're going to do it, Mr. Smith! We'll go back in time, back to when dinosaurs roamed the Earth…! Maybe then, mommy and daddy will be happy…"_

_Oh, what have I done?_

"_I'm sorry, Miss Hawthorne…"_

"_Do you know what happens when you put a time machine inside another time machine?"_

"…_but I can't let you do that."_

A hand grabbed a hold of hers and she flinched, grimacing as it sent pain up her side. The man kept hold though, having seen how she'd shut down in her own thoughts for a while.

"A bad person wouldn't look so torn about things like that."

She cracked a small smile at that. "I suppose. What's your name?"

"Ah, sorry! John. John Smith." He smiled, holding out a hand for her to shake. "But you can call me the Doctor."

She raised a brow. "It would get a bit confusing though, don't you think? Being in a hospital and all."

He blinked, opening his mouth and closing it. "A-Ah, good point."

"Mr. Smith it is," Hawthorne mused, thinking about that old rabbit that kept watch over her for so many years. "I had a stuffed rabbit named that."

"Did you now?"

She realized then, that she'd already forgotten her claim of amnesia while talking with Mr. Smith. He seemed to realize this too but didn't press the issue for now—knowing that she probably had a good reason for her lie.

"It's a very common name," he continued, hoping to get her relaxed once more.

She did but kept up some barriers between them after that—not wanting to make the same mistake with one of the _actual _doctors. He offered to stay with her during her stay there surprisingly, however she felt he had other motives since he'd disappear for a few hours while she slept. She didn't mind though. It was nice to have something to keep her grounded to where she was, especially since the nightmares of what happened often disoriented her.

She tried to focus on her physical therapy to regain her strength, but she also searched for more information about where she had ended up, to distract herself. The year turned out to be 2006 and she was smack dab in the middle of London, England at the Royal Hope Hospital. It wasn't _too_ far from 2157, but Hawthorne felt that it was very different from the time she knew. There was quite a bit of advanced technology that was missing. She had yet to see any hovercars, holograms, or AI-driven androids.

She felt more and more out of place the longer she stayed but couldn't find it in her to just leave. She had nowhere to go and the more differences she witnessed between this time and hers, the more she wondered if she was even on the same plane of existence as before. Could she be in a parallel universe? If so, how? And exactly how different was this one in comparison to her own? Would she bump into a version of herself? Would her mere presence in this universe change things at all?

She couldn't shake off these thoughts and concerns, leading to her nightmares growing more terrorizing. Her death repeating in her mind. Her body falling through a void into another world where her very existence could mean another disaster like before. One world falling apart only for another to fall in its wake due to her arrival. Fires burning, people screaming, yelling that it was all her _fault_.

Her only comfort was John Smith. While he disappeared for hours at a time, he always seemed to know when she needed company. He would be there when she woke up from a nightmare and would just ramble on about the most interesting things. She didn't have to sit up or face him, but he seemed to sense the moment she'd open her eyes and would talk about edible ball bearings, life on other planets, a day spent with Charles Dickens. It made _him_ sound mad, but it was a welcome change to what she was used to.

"_She's weird! She doesn't play or talk with the other kids, just that stupid rabbit! Something's wrong with her, don't you see it!"_

"_Well, what do you want __**me**__ to do about it! I've tried everything, and I hardly see __**you**__ taking any initiative!"_

"_Oh, pinning this on me now?"_

"_That's not—"_

"Ah, Miss Hawthorne. A very good morning to you. How are you today?"

She blinked out of her daydream to Mr. Stoker—one of the doctors who had been seeing to her care.

"I'm all right, considering," she replied, forcing a small smile at him and the group of med students.

_I forgot that they found my ID in my things the other day. Shame they got nothing out of it. I either don't exist in this universe or my other self is busy elsewhere._

"Rebecca Hawthorne: admitted two weeks ago with a gunshot wound to the abdomen and amnesia. Jones, why don't you look her over and see how she's doing?"

"Oh! Sorry, am I interrupting?" John asked, having returned from his most recent venture—grabbing a snack apparently.

"You're all right, John," Hawthorne answered, resisting a shiver as the young med student pressed a stethoscope to her chest. "Just another check-up."

Jones looked up as Mr. Smith sat down though, pausing briefly before speaking to him.

"That wasn't very clever, leaving your girlfriend and running around outside."

"Sorry?" He questioned, opening his bottle of water. "Girlfriend?"

Jones gestured to Hawthorne and she blinked in surprise as the man shook his head.

"Oh, no! We're not… I'm the one who found her, is all. Just keeping her company until she's better."

Jones didn't look convinced but went on to check the wound on her side.

"And I suppose that wasn't you this morning either? On Chancellor Street? You came up to me and took your tie off."

"Really? What did I do that for?" He questioned, earning a slightly curious look from Hawthorne as Jones shrugged.

"I don't know. You just did."

"Not me," he argued. "I was here, keeping an eye on her. Ask the nurses."

"Well, that's weird, cos it looked like you. Have you got a brother?"

"No, not anymore. Just me," he answered, sounding almost sad to Hawthorne.

_Not anymore?_

"As time passes, I grow ever more infirm and weary, Miss Jones," Stoker cut in, making her wince.

"Sorry. Right." She looked to Hawthorne lightly pressing on areas around the wound. "Does this hurt?"

"No."

She shifted. "Here?"

"A little."

Jones nodded, looking at the bandages for a moment. "Any fever, dizziness, spikes of sharp pain?"

Hawthorne shook her head. "No, only when I twist or sit up, which is expected." She cracked a smile. "I _was_ shot."

Jones nodded again and pulled down her hospital gown. "Your bandages should probably be changed again and with some more physical therapy, you should be good to go by tomorrow."

Mr. Smith caught the small frown on Hawthorne's face at that, keeping an eye on her as Mr. Stoker reached for her chart.

"Good work, Jones, except you rather failed basic techniques by not consulting first with the patient's chart nor what may have caused her amnesia."

He dropped the chart abruptly as he received a static shock and the others looked a little concerned.

"That happened to me this morning," Jones said as another med student spoke up.

"I had the same thing on the door handle."

"And me, on the lift.

"That's only to be expected," Stoker said, clearing his throat. "There's a thunderstorm moving in and lightning is a form of static electricity, as was first proven by… Anyone?"

"Benjamin Franklin," both Hawthorne and Mr. Smith replied, earning a small nod from Stoker.

"Correct."

Mr. Smith grinned. "My mate, Ben. That was a day and a half. I got rope burns off that kite and then I got soaked."

"Quite…" Stoker muttered, leading the group on and Mr. Smith turned to Hawthorne.

"You all right?"

"Hm?"

He settled back in his chair, pulling a hidden jello cup from his coat and passing it to her.

"You didn't look very happy to be told you could leave by tomorrow."

"Where would I go?" She questioned him, and he hummed.

"We can look for your family if you want. I don't mind helping."

"I don't believe I _have_ any family," she answered, having not really stuck to the amnesia lie very well around him.

_He probably already knows anyway._

He contemplated that for a moment before responding. "You could always come with me."

She shot him a look and he shrugged.

"You don't have to, but you're interesting, Hawthorne. It's not every day I save someone who's been shot and claims amnesia."

_Ah, so he __**does**__ know._

"I don't like questions," she muttered, and he watched her seriously.

"Because you were shot."

She looked at him sorrowfully. "I'm not a good person. I'm not who you think."

He leaned forward. "Then, show me, because I've gotten to know you these last few weeks, Hawthorne. Now, you may be tortured by something that happened in your past, you may have been shot by someone for making a wrong decision, but I don't believe that you're a bad person. And I'm willing to prove that to you if you'll let me."

She hesitated, not really knowing what to think about the offer he was giving her, but he pat her leg as he stood.

"Just think about it, okay? You don't have to if you don't want to." He smiled, gesturing to the door. "I'll be back in a moment."

Hawthorne nodded with a small wave as he bounded away, leaving her with a lot to think about.

* * *

_Go with him? Just walk out the door with a man I met only a few weeks ago? And what did he mean, interesting?_ I sighed heavily, gazing out the window beside me idly as the rain poured outside. _Am I mad for considering it? I literally have nothing, as far as I know, so going with him might be nice. A distraction from this universe and my past._ I was convinced now, that I'd ended up in another time line on a parallel world and, as happy as I would like to be about this scientific impossibility, I was still concerned over its well-being with a new, un-thought-of addition. Namely, me. _Hold on, is that…_ My eyes narrowed at the window. _Is the rain… going up?_

I didn't get the chance to rise from my hospital bed and find out though, because the entire building began to abruptly shake. Now, I'd never been a fan of earthquakes. It was a part of the reason why I moved away from the West Coast in my other world. Tornados? Climb in the bath. Tsunamis and flooding? Go to higher ground. Blizzard? Stay indoors. _Earthquake_? Good luck.

I tumbled out of my bed, cringing and clutching at my injured side as I crawled in the small space between my bed and the wall for cover. _G-Go away. Please. S-Stop! God, I can't stand this. P-Please stop! I… I don't want to die._ I nearly sobbed, hands covering my head and eyes clenched shut. It was the first time in a long time that I actually found a reason to live, and that reason was—

"Hey, it's all right, Hawthorne. It stopped. You're safe. Haw—Becky. Becky, take slow breaths. You're hyperventilating."

The warm hand on my back slowly calmed me down and drew me out of my hiding place. John gave me a once over, concern shining in his brown eyes before he managed a small smile.

"Not a fan of earthquakes?"

"N-Not… really." I breathed out, trying to relax now that the building had stopped swaying.

"What would you do if I told you it wasn't an earthquake?" He asked suddenly, voice serious but eyes filled with curiosity.

His question did the trick though. I quickly focused on a solution—an explanation—and ceased my earlier panic a lot faster than I would have otherwise. _Not an earthquake? Building collapse? No. People wouldn't have stopped panicking. The damage would be extensive. So… what?_ I then remembered what I thought I saw and something slipped into place.

"Does… Does it have to do with the rain?" I asked, looking to the now darkened window. "It was going up… What… Why is it dark?"

He grinned, holding out a hand to help me onto my feet. "Asking all the right questions. Would you like to see?"

I nodded, curiosity overwhelming as he led me to the window to look out and find the hospital… was now on the moon.

"All right now, everyone back to bed," a familiar voice called out and I barely gave Jones a glance as she herded people back to bed. "We've got an emergency, but we'll sort it out. Don't worry."

I reached for the window latch, stopping only as my head ached and one of the other med students grabbed my wrist.

"Don't! We'll lose all the air."

I frowned, blinking away the odd image in my head of Jones opening the window.

"Windows are hardly air-proof," I argued with the woman. "We should have all died within the first ninety seconds of landing on the moon without proper protection."

Jones stepped over. "She's right. If the air was going to get sucked out, it would have happened straight away, but it didn't. So, how come?"

John spoke up from behind me. "Very good point. Brilliant, in fact. What was your name?"

Jones blinked. "Martha."

"And it was Jones, wasn't it?" He asked, getting a nod. "Well then, Martha Jones, Rebecca Hawthorne, the question is: how are we still breathing?"

I opened my mouth, half a dozen theories spinning through my mind demanding to be let free, but the other med student spoke frantically.

"We can't be."

"Obviously, we are, so don't waste my time," John—no, the Doctor said harshly. "Martha, what have we got? Is there a balcony on this floor, or a veranda or—"

"By the patients' lounge, yeah."

The Doctor grinned, looking at us both. "Fancy going out?"

"Okay," she said without hesitation as I nodded hastily.

"Oh, absolutely."

"We might die."

"I don't care," I admitted, earning a strange look from him as Martha cut in too.

"We might not."

"Good." The Doctor smiled once more before passing by the other med student. "Not her. She'd hold us up. You too, Becky."

"Hawthorne," I corrected, having grown used to him calling me _that_ over my more feminine nickname. "But it's got to be a barrier, right? Keeping the air in? We didn't just pop up on the moon by accident. Someone or something brought us here for a reason."

He glanced at me with a large grin. "Ooh, excellent theory. Where has _this_ Hawthorne been?"

I grinned back, his excitement contagious, as Martha began to question me.

"But how do you figure? Why bring us here?"

I shrugged as we approached the doors out to the veranda of the patients' lounge. "I don't have all the answers, but they need this building for something otherwise they would have destroyed it. _So_, that means they're probably looking for a living thing since they gave us air. Narrows things down a bit. Police, bounty hunters, concerned search party, you name it.

_What __**I**__ want to know is, how they got us here and who managed to do it. The people in this universe at this time seem unable to do interplanetary teleport, so… aliens?_ My heart sped up in excitement and a twinge of fear. Extraterrestrials hadn't existed where I was from. Or, if they had, they kept quite a bit of distance between them and us. _Past the closest fifteen galaxies, anyway._ Feeling little to no caution at all, I was the first out the doors, whereas Martha and the Doctor took their time.

"We've got air. How does that work?" Martha asked as I looked for a small rock.

"Just be glad it does," the Doctor answered as I chucked the rock.

I cringed at the pain the action caused and at the headache that came with it.

_The Doctor threw a rock, bouncing it off—_

"It's a forcefield or a barrier," I chirped, mind going a million miles a minute as the headache faded. "Oh, that is brilliant! What's it made of? How did they manage to get it set up without anyone noticing, much less teleport us to the moon so quickly without much damage internally? Can we get closer?"

The two blinked in surprise and I realized I had cut in during a conversation they were having.

"A-Ah… Sorry. I'm not…I'm not used to having people around," I apologized lamely, used to being able to talk to myself or my rabbit in either the empty lab at work or my garage.

"Oh, no! That's fine. That was…" The Doctor looked me over in pleasant surprise. "That was brilliant, really. Lots of questions. Love that."

I rubbed the back of my neck with a sheepish smile as he cleared his throat.

"I, uh, wouldn't get closer though. We're not even sure who's coming."

"Extraterrestrial," Martha piped up. "It's got to be. I don't know, a few years ago that would have sounded mad, but these days? That spaceship flying into Big Ben, Christmas, those Cybermen things. I had a cousin, Adeola. She worked at Canary Warf. She never came home."

"I'm sorry," the Doctor apologized as I tried to wrap my head around what she'd just said.

_Aliens. Actual aliens? Oh, I might like this world yet._ There was a loud rumble that cut through our air bubble and my mouth dropped open in awe as large ships landed a small distance away—depositing a number of alien creatures.

"Aliens…" Martha breathed, mimicking my earlier thoughts. "That's aliens. Real proper aliens."

"Judoon."

I turned to the Doctor curiously, wondering what he meant, but he led us back in to look down at the aliens as they stormed the bottom floor.

"Oh, look down there. You've got a little shop. I like a little shop." The Doctor smiled, earning one from me.

"Me too. They're handy in a pinch."

"Never mind that," Martha cut in, turning our attention back to the aliens. "What are Judoon?"

"They're like police. Well, police for hire. They're more like interplanetary thugs."

"Mercenaries?" I questioned, earning a nod. "Mercenaries on the search for a living thing. Why the moon?"

"Neutral territory," the Doctor explained. "According to galactic law, they've got no jurisdiction over the Earth and they isolated it. The rain, lightning? That was them using an H2O scoop."

_H2O scoop? How does that work? Alter the atmosphere, using the rain water and electricity to upend—_

"What are you going on about, 'galactic law'?" Martha cut my thoughts short. "Where'd you get that from? If they're police, are we under arrest? Are we trespassing on the moon or something?"

She either hadn't heard my theory or pointedly ignored it, but my mind was stuck on one of the questions she'd asked.

"_Where'd you get that from?"_

_Is he…?_ I looked down at the large, upright rhino-esque aliens below and then turned to the Doctor. _Is he an alien?_

"Do we look like you or do you look like us?" I blurted out, and his head whipped around to me in shock as Martha frowned in puzzlement.

"What are you going on about?"

The Doctor just grinned, not looking away from me. "They're making a catalog. That means they're after something non-human, which is very bad for me," he said, eyes sparkling. "And you look like me."

"Oh, you're kidding," Martha scoffed in disbelief, making him raise a brow at her. "Don't be ridiculous. Stop looking at me like that."

"Oh, that is brilliant," I breathed out and he stood, still smiling.

"Come on then."

* * *

The Doctor typed away on a computer screen in search of what the Judoon were looking for but couldn't help feeling Hawthorne's stare as she fidgeted nearby.

"You have questions?" He asked, a bit glad that Martha had gone to check on the Judoon.

"You're an alien," she said simply.

"Is that all right?" He asked, glancing at her from over his shoulder.

"It's amazing." She smiled brightly, something the Doctor was glad for. "I never thought I'd ever meet aliens and now I've seen two vastly different ones."

His brows furrowed. "You didn't see the Cybermen or the space ship that hit Big Ben?"

Her smile fell quickly, and the Doctor became suspicious.

"Hawthorne?"

She glanced at him, eyes suddenly looking sad. "You wouldn't believe me."

He went to question her further, but Martha chose that inopportune moment to return with news on the Judoon.

"They've reached the third floor." She frowned, catching sight of the tool he was using on the computer. "What's that thing?"

The Doctor hesitated before turning away from Hawthorne and continuing his work.

"Sonic Screwdriver."

"Well, if you're not going to answer me properly—"

"No, really, it is. It's a screwdriver and it's sonic. Look," he said, pressing the button and making it buzz—not missing the fascinated look on Hawthorne's face.

"What else have you got, a laser spanner?" Martha scoffed, not taking him seriously.

"I did, but it was stolen by Emily Pankhurst, cheeky woman."

"What did _she_ want with it?" Hawthorne asked, and the Doctor shrugged as she went on. "And does it use sonic waves to alter the molecular make-up of the objects you're using it on? I don't see many buttons or switches, so how do you get it to work the way you want it? Voice control is out since you haven't said a word. So… thought control?"

The two openly gaped at her for a moment before she realized the ramble she'd gone on and flushed bright red in embarrassment.

"Ah… sorry. Again, I'm used to being left alone with my thoughts, so I tend to verbalize them without expecting answers. We should, um, continue."

The Doctor though hardly wanted to do that. "Now, hold on a second. I knew you were clever, but that was next-level clever. That was _genius_! How did you work that out? What do you do for work to have figured all that out? Scientists must _love_ you!"

"Um, well, they didn't quite love me," she responded awkwardly, stunned by his praise. "I was a scientist though. I studied astrophysics and philosophy on interstellar, interdimensional and time travel. I-I only wrote a few papers though!" She hastily waved off. "I-I did most of my work at home, in the lab, or…" Her expression faltered. "O-Or for the government."

"You _were_ a scientist?" The Doctor questioned, intrigued by her use of past tense, but the wince she made at his question drew his suspicion once more.

"Things… didn't work out well…" She muttered, and Martha jumped in.

"Hold on, I thought you had amnesia."

Hawthorne chuckled awkwardly. "A clever lie to avoid questions on my injury. I _upset_ someone and would prefer not doing so again."

Martha frowned, making to continue questioning her, but the Doctor was quick to draw her attention away from the suddenly sheepish woman.

"Oh, this computer!" He shouted, hitting it. "The Judoon must have locked it down. Judoon platoon upon the moon. Because I was just travelling past. I swear, I was just wandering. I wasn't looking for trouble, honestly, I wasn't, but I noticed these plasma coils around the hospital, and that lightning, that's a plasma coil," he explained to them at Hawthorne's curious tilt of the head. "Been building up for two days now, so I checked in. I thought something was going on inside. It turns out the plasma coils were the Judoon up above."

"But what were they looking for?" Martha asked.

"Something that looks human but isn't."

"Like you," Hawthorne concluded. "But not you."

"Exactly."

"Haven't they got a photo?" Martha brought up.

"Well, might be a shape-changer." He shrugged.

"Whatever it is, can't you just leave the Judoon to find it?"

He shook his head. "If they declare the hospital guilty of harboring a fugitive, they'll sentence it to execution."

"All of us?"

"Oh, yes. If I can find this thing first—Oh! You see? They're thick!" He shouted, hitting the computer again and startling Hawthorne. "Judoon are thick! They are completely thick! They wiped the records. Oh, that's clever."

"And counter-productive," Hawthorne muttered, leaning over towards the Doctor to look at the screen. "Have you tried searching for a back-up?"

"Clever with computers too?" He questioned, sliding over to let her have a shot.

"I've dabbled in computer coding, but making them is more entertaining," She hummed with a smirk, typing away as Martha scowled at the smile the Doctor sent back.

"What are we looking for?" She asked, hoping to help too.

"I don't know," the Doctor admitted. "Say, any patient admitted in the past week with unusual symptoms."

"Alien, Miss Jones," Hawthorne mused. "Anything odd or out of the ordinary. Two hearts, five limbs, odd smell—"

"Odd smell?" The Doctor questioned, and she shrugged.

"Just keeping the possibilities open. I always knew aliens would be diverse. _How_ diverse was always up in the air. The chances of having an alien species _exactly_ like ours though is at least one in seven-hundred quintillion. The possibilities are endless, really."

"Oh, I like you." He grinned as Martha scowled.

"I'll go ask Mr. Stoker. He might know."

She left, and the Doctor took that opportunity to answer some questions that had been running through his mind.

"Time travel? What got you interested in that?"

A fond smile appeared on Hawthorne's face, though the Doctor felt that it was a bit sad.

"Everyone wants to go out of the time they live in for one reason or another. For me, it was more than a want."

"Why?"

"Personal reasons," she said solemnly, shutting him out. "Though, I felt the records of human history were never done right. Too many instances were missing, too many events were twisted with personal feelings put into written word. I wanted to be the one to go back in time and write about things the way they were. They were _real_, not just stories."

"That's… an interesting way to think about it," he mused. "What about the future?"

She shook her head. "Not interested. No one should know what's going to happen. They'd just go back and try to change it…" Her expression faltered as she paused briefly in her typing.

The Doctor caught it again, knowing something had happened, but not what. "I sometimes wonder what's going on in that head of yours when you make expressions like that," he said softly, and she cracked a small smile.

"Maybe I'll tell you about it one day, Doctor."

He grinned at that—both, her calling him "Doctor" and making a silent agreement to go with him after this mess. _Oh, won't she be surprised?_ The screen began to pop up records then, and he cheered, giving her a friendly pat on the back.

"You did it! Come on, let's go get Martha."

They barely made it into the hall before said med student practically barreled them down.

"Hawthorne's restored the back-up!" He said, the same time Martha spoke.

"I found her!"

"You did what?" He blinked as a man in a black motorcycle helmet stomped towards them threateningly. "Run!"

* * *

The three hurried into radiology and the Doctor shut the door behind them, sonicking the x-ray as he ordered the other two behind the protective glass in search of the "on" switch. The man on the other side of the door pounded on it and broke through just as Martha and Hawthorne found the button.

"Now!"

The machine went off and the man fell to the ground as it shut down—leaving just the Doctor standing.

"What did you do?" Martha asked in shock.

"Increased the radiation by five thousand percent. Killed him dead."

"Killed him?" Hawthorne breathed out, glancing at the body on the ground as her hand quivered.

_I did that._

"Well, not really." The Doctor shrugged. "It's just a Slab. They're called 'Slabs.' Basic slave drones. Solid leather all the way through, sort of like golems."

Hawthorne relaxed slightly, rubbing at her head to rid her of the small headache and image of the Doctor saying the same thing with no shoes on.

"You increased the radiation?" Martha questioned. "Isn't that going to kill you?"

"Nah, it's only roentgen radiation. We used to play with roentgen bricks in the nursery. It's safe for you to come out," he said then, waving them over and they stepped out from behind the protective glass. "I've absorbed it all. All I need to do is expel it. If I concentrate, I can shake the radiation out of my body and into one spot. It's in my left shoe. Here we go, here we go. Easy does it."

He hopped around on one foot, much to Hawthorne's amusement, before tossing his shoe in a radiation bin.

"Done."

"You're completely mad," Martha breathed.

"You're right. I look daft with one shoe," he said, tossing his other shoe and wiggling his toes. "Barefoot on the moon."

Hawthorne took a moment to frown down at his feet, remembering that image from a few minutes ago, before looking at the Doctor. "You can endo and ethnothermically absorb radiation?"

The Doctor winked. "Maybe. Two hearts too, if that's not alien enough for you."

"You're kidding..."

"What about this?" Martha asked, kneeling to the Slab. "It was that woman, Miss Finnegan. It was working for her, just like a servant."

The Doctor wasn't listening though, pulling his destroyed sonic from the x-ray machine sadly.

"My sonic screwdriver…"

Martha hadn't noticed. "She was one of the patients, but—"

"Oh, no. My sonic screwdriver."

"She had a straw like some kind of vampire."

"I loved my sonic screwdriver."

"Can it be fixed?" Hawthorne asked, concerned as well, but Martha shouted to get their attention.

"Doctor!"

He passed the sonic to Hawthorne and grinned at Martha. "Sorry. You called me Doctor."

"_Anyway_?" Martha complained. "Miss Finnegan is the alien. She was drinking Mr. Stoker's blood."

"Funny time to take a snack. You'd think she'd be hiding."

Hawthorne hummed. "You said it was a shape-shifter? Would it have to change internally as well to get past scans?"

The Doctor's mouth dropped open. "That's too… Yes! Internal shape-shifter. She wasn't drinking blood, she was assimilating it. Genius, Hawthorne! If she can assimilate Mister Stoker's blood, mimic the biology, she'll register as human. We've got to find her and show the Judoon."

"What if she's already been scanned as human?" Hawthorne questioned. "Shouldn't we have a back-up to reveal her? Is there a time limit on how long she can appear human?"

"Depends on the species and how much she drank. Don't worry. I'll think up another plan." He smiled, musing her hair as they went out into the hall, only to see another Slab heading their way.

The Doctor was quick to hide them behind a water dispenser as it changed directions and walked past.

"That's the thing about Slabs. They always travel in pairs."

"What about you?" Martha asked.

"What about me, what?"

"Haven't you got back-up? Another partner other than Hawthorne?"

Hawthorne pointed to herself in confusion as the Doctor corrected her.

"Oh, no. Hawthorne and I just met."

"Seriously? So, you're on your own?"

The Doctor groaned. "Oh, humans. We're stuck on the moon running out of air with Judoon and a blood-sucking criminal, and you're asking personal questions?" He shook his head, standing. "Come on."

"I like that. 'Humans.' I'm still not convinced you're an alien," Martha scoffed, just in time for them to round the corner into a scanning Judoon.

"Non-human," it grunted as Martha gaped.

"Oh, my God. You really are."

"And again," the Doctor groaned as the group broke into a run—barely dodging the shots fired at them.

* * *

They reached a corridor and the Doctor slowed as he looked around at the people collapsed on the ground.

"They've done this floor. Come on. The Judoon are logical and just a little bit thick. They won't go back to check a floor they've checked already… If we're lucky," he said, not noticing the pale Hawthorne lagging behind as Martha knelt to her fellow med student.

"How much oxygen is there?"

"Not enough for all these people," the woman answered, drawing the Doctor's attention to them. "We're going to run out."

"How are you feeling?" He asked Martha, remembering that he had two human people with him. "Are you all right?"

Martha cracked a smile. "I'm running on adrenaline."

"Welcome to my world." He grinned back, turning. "And you, Hawthorne?"

The woman didn't answer, or rather, _couldn't_. She leaned heavily against a wall, doubled over with a hand clasped around her side, hyperventilating.

"Hawthorne!" The Doctor rushed towards her, quickly trying to calm her. "Hawthorne, deep breaths. Tell me what's going on. _Breathe_, dammit!"

"Doctor!" Martha scolded him, leading Hawthorne to the ground and pressing her head between her knees. "Shouting isn't going to help. She's having a panic attack. We need to know what triggered it."

He pulled a hand through his hair, jaw tight as he wondered if asking her to come with him might have been a mistake. _She… She can't handle it…_ He saw her hand then and realization dawned on him.

"She was shot."

"What!" Martha panicked, but the Doctor waved her off.

"No, no. Not now. Her injury! I think her being chased and shot at by the Judoon may have triggered her to relive whatever happened to get her hurt initially."

There was a crash and screams from down the hall and the Doctor grimaced, looking around and spotting the MRI at the far end of the building.

"She's as clever as me, almost," he murmured, taking a glance at the slowly calming Hawthorne as she winced in pain, before turning to Martha. "Martha, stay here with Hawthorne. I need time. You've got to hold them up."

"How do I do that?" She questioned anxiously, and the Doctor stood with her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Just forgive me for this. It could save a thousand lives. It means nothing. Honestly, nothing."

He kissed her before pulling away, giving Hawthorne a pat on the head.

"Hang in there, Hawthorne," he muttered before running off.

"T-That was nothing?" Martha breathed out once he was gone.

She shook her head, kneeling back down the Hawthorne.

"Hey, pull it together, Hawthorne," she murmured. "I may not know what happened to you, but… the Doctor doesn't want to see you like this. You're obviously clever and… I hate to admit it, but he needs you right now. I can hold off the Judoon, but I can't figure him out. You need to calm down though. There's little oxygen to begin with." She sighed, seeing that Hawthorne was trying, but struggling. "Have you… Have you had panic attacks before? Often?"

She gave a shaky nod and Martha took a deep breath, looking over her shoulder as there was another crash—closer this time.

"Okay, okay. What did you do to help? There has to be something."

"I-I had… a stuffed rabbit," Hawthorne breathed out, shaking. "Mr. Smith."

"Well, I don't have—Wait." She spotted a pillow in the hall and ran to bring it back. "Will this work?"

Hawthorne took it just as the Judoon rounded the corner. Martha winced, looking briefly at Hawthorne before heading over to face the aliens with as much confidence as she could manage. This was her chance to impress the Doctor. She couldn't let him down now.

* * *

"_What's the point! She keeps coming back a disaster and the teachers keep calling me out of work to deal with it! Just home school her!"_

"_She doesn't listen to me! To __**anything**__! What the hell do you want me to do about it! You're not the only one who's busy, you know! She's your kid too!"_

"_Well, maybe I don't want her to be!"_

_It's okay, Mr. Smith… I'm all right. I always knew… I just want to get away… Climb into my magic box and run away, back in time. Anywhere, anywhen._

Arms tightened around the pillow as her heartbeat slowly faded from her ears.

_They'll be happy then, won't they, Mr. Smith? If I'm gone, then… Then nothing terrible would have happened. History wouldn't have changed, people wouldn't have died, I'd be free. I __**am **_free_._

Hawthorne took a deep breath, straightening and turning her head to where Martha was facing the Judoon.

"_Hang in there, Hawthorne."_

"_I hate to admit it, but he needs you right now."_

She pushed herself to her feet, glancing back at the Judoon, and took off running. _He needs me. Somebody __**needs**__ me. _She burst into the MRI room, startling the older woman who had been sucking the Doctor's blood. Hawthorne wasn't sure what to do as the man fell lifelessly to the ground, but the woman—Miss Finnegan—was more annoyed at the interruption than anything.

"Grab her," she snapped, the Slab grabbing Hawthorne's arm.

"Doctor?" Hawthorne called out as Martha rounded the corner with the Judoon.

"Doctor!" She shouted, making to run over to help, but Hawthorne stopped her, voice chilly.

"Scan her."

Martha blinked, confused before understanding dawned on her. "She drank his blood…" She grabbed the Judoon's scanner, missing the wince Hawthorne made at another headache, and aimed it at the confident old woman.

"Oh, I don't mind. Scan all you like."

"Non-human," a Judoon confirmed, making her pale.

"But, what?"

"Confirm analysis."

She shook her head frantically. "Oh, but it's a mistake, surely. I'm human. I'm as human as they come."

"He gave his life so they'd find you," Martha breathed as the Judoon spoke.

"Confirm. Plasmavore, charged with the crime of murdering the child princess of Patrival Regency Nine."

"Well, she deserved it!" The woman shouted, giving up on previous pretenses. "Those pink cheeks and those blonde curls and that simpering voice. She was _begging_ for the bite of a plasmavore."

"Then, you confess?"

"Confess? I'm proud of it! Slab, stop them!"

The Slab released Hawthorne who dived to the Doctor's side, but the Judoon were quick to vaporize the Slab before it could get anywhere.

"Verdict, guilty. Sentence, execution."

The elder woman scowled and plugged in the MRI scanner, grinning when alarms went off. "Enjoy your victory, Judoon, because you're going to burn with me. Burn in hell!"

She was the next to be killed—the Judoon declaring the case closed, but Martha stopped them.

"But what did she mean, burn with me? The scanner shouldn't be doing that. She's done something."

A Judoon scanned it. "Scans detect lethal acceleration of monomagnetic pulse."

"Well, do something! Stop it!" Martha begged.

"Our jurisdiction has ended. Judoon will evacuate."

Martha went to argue, but Hawthorne called out.

"Martha, I'll deal with it! Help the Doctor! He's not breathing!"

Martha groaned in frustration with the Judoon but hurried over to the Doctor as Hawthorne stumbled to the MRI machine. Upon finding the Doctor not breathing and with no pulse, Martha began chest compressions—remembering partway through that he had a second heart and switching sides. They were running out of air though, and she could hear Hawthorne gasping for breath behind her as she gave her last lungful of air to the Doctor. He woke just as Martha collapsed and weakly gestured to the MRI machine. Low on air himself, he struggled to head over, reaching for his sonic only to remember it was fried and gone. He fought to think up a way to stop the machine when Hawthorne practically threw herself to his side.

"P-Plug…" She gasped out, shoving a manual at him before her legs gave out and she collapsed.

The Doctor cursed, looking at the manual she'd given him and grinning at the words on the page. He tossed the book aside and dove for the large plug in the wall, shutting the MRI down. He checked on Martha then, before returning to Hawthorne and wincing. Her wound was bleeding a bit through the bandages and her lips were beginning to turn blue from lack of oxygen. He picked her up and hurried to the nearest room with a view—murmuring under his breath.

"Come on, come on, come on. Please. Come on, Judoon. Reverse it."

Water splashed on the window and the Doctor relaxed.

"It's raining, Hawthorne. It's raining on the moon."

She didn't respond, but the Doctor was just pleased to see her breathing deeply once more.

"Come on," he murmured quietly, turning away from the sunny window—the hospital back where it should be. "Let's get you fixed up."


	2. Chapter 2

I woke up to the familiar cadence of a heart monitor and resisted a groan as I opened my eyes. It wasn't my room though, seeing as it lacked the white hospital walls and sported a light blue paint instead. I suddenly felt my heart sink, feeling a mix between being happy I was alive and upset that I wasn't dead. I'd been switching between the two since I'd shown up in the world with the Doctor and aliens and such. I hadn't wanted to die when the earthquake (H2O scoop?) happened, but now I wondered. Was it worth living with the guilt? Would I live forever? I should have died when I messed with two time machines, so would it be that far of a stretch? _Could_ I die or was I an impossible time event and now immortal? I died in the hospital, didn't I? So, where was I now? Another world? Every time I died, would I jump timelines? If I couldn't die, then what? Was being alive now really a good thing or a curse? I wanted to live, but would this really be living?

_People screaming, crying, running…_

_It's too soon…_

"_You don't know what you're doing. What you've done."_

"_Welcome to the government, Miss Hawthorne."_

"_They can't get a hold of it."_

"_There's nothing you can do."_

I let out a long sigh, covering my eyes with my arm. "I deserve this."

"Deserve what?"

I jolted, pushing myself onto my elbows in stunned surprise at the curious Doctor heading over. "You're… You're still here. _I'm_ still here. I didn't die."

"Well, no. The Judoon put us back on Earth right in the nick of time," he chirped. "Though, what made you think you died? You wouldn't exactly be awake and breathing now, if that were true."

"Yeah… Yeah, you're right," I murmured as he began to unhook me from the heart monitor. "Uh, shouldn't an _actual_ doctor be doing that?"

"I'm the only _doctor_ here." He grinned, making me frown.

"This… isn't the hospital, is it?"

"Nope!"

My brows continued to crease. "So, I'm… where, exactly?"

"On my ship." He smiled, reminding me that he _had_ mentioned being an alien.

"You're taking me with you?"

His smile fell into something more serious. "Only if you want. I could always just take you home."

I resisted a cringe but didn't hide it well, apparently.

"Or, wherever a home might be," he added at my reaction. "What happened, Rebecca? How did you end up in that hospital?"

I wanted to tell him, to blurt it all out and bury him in the words that threatened to tumble from my mouth. They were caught in my throat though, swelling and threatening to choke me as the possible repercussions tried to drown my mind. _Would he hate me for what I did? Curse me, threaten me, kill me?_

"_I'm sorry, Miss Hawthorne, but I can't let you do that."_

_I've only just met him, really, but he's already got my respect. Do I truly want to ruin the friendship I've only just started? Maybe I should. Cut off ties now, sever this before it's started, because I don't deserve someone like him…_

"Hawthorne?"

I looked over at his concerned expression, already hating myself for wanting more of his kindness. _I've decided… This will be my punishment. We've bonded, gotten close. I'll tell him, then…_

I opened my mouth, trying to get the words out. _I ruined the future in my world. I killed millions. I started wars, got children killed, altered time itself for a childhood dream that would never fix anything. I invented a weapon for the government and destroyed humanity. I deserve to die, to have you and everyone else hate me. __**Please**__, hate me. _The words died before they got anywhere though, and I instead responded with an apology.

"I… I'm sorry… I-I can't… Not yet."

He accepted that, surprisingly enough, ruffling my hair to try and cheer me up. "That's fine. I can wait. Come on, then. I'm sure you're eager for a look around." He smirked, waving me on as I carefully hopped off the bed. "I'm sure you'll get around to explaining the whole thing eventually, but for now, you've got so much more to discover."

"More than aliens?" I questioned playfully.

"Oh, so much more," he chirped, leading me down a hall as I looked around curiously—soon bringing me into a much larger room that made my mouth drop. "Hawthorne, welcome to the Tardis."

I openly gaped as I moved about the large room, trying to take everything in from the tree-like support beams to the glowing green cylinder in the center console. Buttons and levers beamed up at me, eagerly awaiting a hand to move them in a sequence unknown to me. I sat heavily in a seat nearby—that was far comfier than it first looked—and turned to the Doctor.

"I'm in a spaceship. An _alien _spaceship."

"Yup," he said, popping the "P" as he placed his hands in his pockets and leaned on the edge of the console. "Wait until you see the outside."

I could feel my eyes lighting up and he waved me off, giving me the go-ahead to dash out a set of double doors to look. And _boy_, was it a sight. A blue box. A police box, if the placard at the top had anything to say about it. I rushed around the overgrown telephone booth, only becoming more excited by its outwardly small dimensions, before I rushed back inside—slightly out of breath.

"I-It's… bigger on the inside!" I said, seeing him grin brighter than he ever had before, as though my words unlocked a special sort of joy in the man. "How? Do we shrink when we walk in? No, that's stupid. Too simple. Is it a pocket dimensions? It is, isn't it? How did you manage to keep it together in a blue box? _Why_ is it a blue box?"

He chuckled. "Full of questions, aren't you? It _is_ a pocket dimension and I camouflaged it as a police box ages ago and got it stuck that way."

"And you haven't fixed it?"

"Well, I rather like it. Don't you?"

I looked around once more, before nodding. "Yeah, I love it… How does it work?"

"I'll show you, as soon as we get a hold of Martha," he chirped, catching my confused expression. "I invited her for a trip as thanks, if that's all right."

"The more the merrier," I hummed, not too bothered.

It was _his_ ship, after all. Who was I to decide who he could and couldn't invite?

"What makes it go?" I asked, turning around and pouting childishly upon realizing he'd gone out to get Martha.

While I was grateful at the show of trust by him leaving me alone in his ship—not that I'd be able to figure out the controls anytime soon—he also left me with my thoughts and I let out a heavy sigh. _I couldn't tell him. God, what's he going to think when he finds out I'm not telling him I __**murdered**__ an entire future? _I quickly shook the thought from my head, hands fisted at my side as I took a deep breath to try and calm down. An anxiety attack would only bring more attention to me and what I was hiding. As badly as I wanted to tell him, I was scared, and I didn't want to lose the first person who saw _me_.

"How does it do that?" Martha said, entering the Tardis behind the Doctor and pulling me from my thoughts. "It's wood. It's like a box with that room just jammed in. It's bigger on the inside."

"Is it? I hadn't noticed," the Doctor teased as I smiled and wandered around to look at the finer details of the console room. "Right then, let's get going."

"But is there a crew, like a navigator and stuff? Where is everyone?" Martha asked, missing the Doctor's sad expression.

"Just me," he answered, forcing a smile as he managed to snake an arm around my shoulders when I tried to move past him. "And Hawthorne too!"

"Hello, again!" I chirped with a wave, earning a small frown from the woman for a split second before she eyed the Doctor.

"But you were all on your own?"

"Well, sometimes I have guests," he replied, releasing me to continue my look-around. "I mean some friends, travelling alongside. I had. There was recently, a friend of mine. Rose, her name was. Rose. And we were together. Anyway." He finished solemnly, and I frowned over my shoulder as I leaned over a railing to look at the floor below.

_Rose is… a sensitive subject._

"Where is she now?" Martha asked, not having noticed, apparently.

"With her family. Happy. She's fine. She's… Not that you're replacing her," he said quickly.

"Never said I was."

"Just one trip to say thanks. You get one trip, then back home."

"What about her?" Martha questioned, gesturing to me.

"A-Ah, well…" The Doctor hesitated, and I could see why.

_Can't show favoritism, I suppose. _I shrugged, hands up with a tight grin. "Who knows? I don't have a place to go, but I might end up leaving too."

The Doctor's expression fell, and I wished I could reassure him that I planned on staying, except that doubt returned. _Maybe it would be better if I left…_

"Well, you're the one who kissed me." Martha teased the Doctor, who sputtered.

"That was a genetic transfer!"

"And if you will wear a tight suit…"

"Now, don't!"

"And then travel all the way across the universe just to ask me on a date."

"Stop it."

She smiled as I did the same, looking at the circles on the wall. _Wonder what they're for?_

"For the record," Martha continued, "I'm not remotely interested. I only go for humans."

"Good." He nodded, moving to the controls in uncontrollable excitement. "Well, then… close down the gravitic anomalizer—"

"What does that—" I closed my mouth with a "snap" when he shot me a look so that he could go on.

"Fire up the helmic regulator and finally, the handbrake. I'll explain them later, Hawthorne," he offered with a grin. "Ready?"

"Absolutely," I answered as Martha gave a more hesitant "no."

"Off we go!"

The ship jolted, and I grinned in excitement. While I had never been one for earthquakes, the shaking turbulence of the Tardis was more like a thrill ride than an unstoppable natural disaster. My adrenaline rush pushed aside any and all worries.

"Blimey, it's a bit bumpy," Martha complained as we held onto the railings and the Doctor bounced around the console.

"Welcome aboard, Miss Jones."

She smiled. "It's my pleasure, Mr. Smith."

I allowed the flow of the turbulence to move me over to the Doctor's side with eager curiosity.

"You either have no stabilizers or don't use them, and I _love_ it."

He laughed, gesturing to a lever that I held down for him in excitement. "Well, welcome aboard to you too, Hawthorne! Good to know you enjoy a bit of thrill."

"Always." I smirked.

"But how do you travel in time?" Martha asked then, making me pause in my joy and hope I heard that wrong. "What makes it go?"

"Oh, let's take the fun and mystery out of everything. Martha, you don't want to know. It just does. Hold on tight."

The Tardis have one final jolt, knocking me out of my stupor and throwing Martha and I to the floor.

"Blimey. Do you have to pass a test to fly this thing?" She complained as she got up.

"Yes, and I failed it," the Doctor announced proudly. "Now, make the most of it. I promised you one trip, and one trip only. Outside this door, brave new world."

"Where are we?" Martha asked hesitantly, heading over as I moved a bit slower—her words ringing in my head along with others.

"_But how do you travel in time?"_

"_We're going back in time!"_

"_I did it! I created a time machine!"_

"_With this technology, we could—"_

"You coming, Hawthorne?" The Doctor asked, pulling me from my daze with a curious look.

"It… It travels in time?" I questioned, voice a breathy whisper.

"Yeah, didn't I say?" He chirped, taking my breathlessness as stunned amazement and not the panic it was. "Come on, then."

He walked out, but I still couldn't move, hovering before the double doors unable to feel my legs. My breath had already shortened, and my hands shook almost violently as those images and voices screamed in my head.

"… _don't __**lie**__ to me. You __**will**__ help us eventually."_

"_You just killed him! You __**killed**__ Stalin! Y-You can't just do that! Do you know what you've done!"_

_Children speaking German, Nazi symbols celebrated with pride, Japanese kamikaze pilots slamming into buildings. Fires, screams, death…_

"_You've changed so many things you don't even realize."_

"_I'm sorry, Miss Hawthorne—"_

I jumped, startled as a loud "bang" rang out, hand clutching my shirt and looking down as blood poured from my side. It wouldn't stop. The screaming, the destruction, the blood and death and torture. _M-Make it stop. Please! Fix it! Someone has to fix this, stop it, anything! I-I… I can't breathe… God, I-I'm dying. I can't breathe, a-and I need to do something. I'm the only one who knows what's wrong, but… No. I'm dead already. Rivers, he…_

"_I can't risk you doing the same."_

"_No!"_

A pair of hands grabbed my shoulders, but I could barely feel them over the pressure filling my head, my chest, everything. Blood still poured from my side and I was doing everything I could to put myself back together again, but _I couldn't __**breathe!**_ It was like I was back in that torture chamber.

"_Help us, Miss Hawthorne. Help us and then all of this will stop."_

"_N-No… I can't… The future is—"_

_Water choked my throat and lungs, hands tied, and head held under before I was yanked back out._

"_It wasn't a suggestion, Miss Hawthorne. Give in, or we'll do this until you break, and we don't want that. __**You**__ don't want that."_

"_N-N-No… I r-refuse… The past, future… Time—"_

"T-Time…" I gasped, _wheezed_. "Y-You can't… can't mess w-with time. You're not ready… _W-We're_ not ready."

"Hawthorne!"

The Doctor's voice cut through my panic as my green eyes automatically latched onto his, his hands holding my head as he watched me in concern.

"What's going on? Talk to me," he said, voice softer and almost melodic.

"T-Time…" I managed, still struggling to calm my breathing. "T-The future… We… We could change… We're n-not ready. We're not…"

"Hawthorne, it's okay. Nothing's going to happen," he soothed, though his brows were furrowed as he watched me. "Why are you so bothered by this?"

I felt a sort of mental prod and immediately acted on instinct, jolting back out of his reach. We both grimaced at the sharp pain that passed through our heads, but the Doctor was quick to recover.

"Becky, calm down. You're panicking again," he said, and I nodded—his interactions keeping me grounded in reality and not in my past mistakes.

It was harder without Mr. Smith, but I soon managed as the Doctor leaned over and rubbed at my back.

"Better?" He questioned, earning a small nod. "Goodness, what happened? I thought you'd be thrilled about a time machine, given your studies."

"I-I…" I swallowed thickly, feeling a sort of guilt for causing him to worry. "S-Sorry. I, um… I-I've had a… bad experience."

"Obviously," he said with a sigh, helping me up and taking a glance at my side with a wince. "We'll need to patch you up again. You may have torn it open a bit."

I grimaced but nodded just as the door opened and Martha stormed in with a scowl, looking rather wet.

"You didn't mention we were somewhere before the invention of the toilet!"

The Doctor and I winced, plugging our noses as she passed—the Doctor pointing at the hall.

"Second door on the left."

She huffed and stomped off as I rubbed at my head.

"_Mind out."_

"_Gardex l'eu!"_

_The Doctor pulled Martha out of the way of a bucket of… well, shit._

"_Somewhere before the invention of the toilet. Sorry about that."_

"_I've seen worse. I've worked A&E."_

I must have zoned out for a moment, because I'd somehow made it to the med bay.

"Do you want to talk about it?" The Doctor asked, eyeing me as he finished patching me up.

"You… wouldn't believe me," I murmured—a piss-poor excuse.

I knew he'd believe me with his intelligence and technology.

"You know that's not true," he called me out on my lie.

I looked away as he lowered my shirt. "You would hate me."

"Well, it takes a lot to make me hate someone," he mused. "Even murders get a second chance."

_Murderer!_

_This is your fault!_

_You've ruined everything!_

"_Why did you have to be born?" Mother sobbed at the kitchen table, missing the set of emerald eyes staring sadly at her back._

"What if I was?" I blurted out, regretting it instantly as he watched me.

"You don't seem the type, but I suppose I would have to hear you out and try to understand why then move from there."

"Murder is never justified," I muttered, heart aching.

"Which proves that you would have to have a very good reason, Becky, if you actually were a murderer," he mused, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "It takes a lot to have someone go against their own morals."

_But… I would have done more. I could have struggled more, tried to fix my mistake sooner. God, am I going to end up back in a situation like that because of this? He seems to know what he's doing, but it would only take one mistake and there would be no going back._

"Hawthorne," the Doctor called my attention back to him as he leaned forward to clasp my quivering hands. "Nothing bad is going to happen to time, I promise. My species, the Time Lords, we can tell when there is a fixed point in time and we know what the limits are to what we can and can't do. I won't let anything happen. Trust me."

I hesitated, but nodded, willing to chance it this one time. _If anything happens though… I'm not sure what I'll do. _The Doctor smiled softly and tugged me off the bed.

"All right, we best go wait for Martha, though I doubt she'll be pleased with us. Have to make it up to her."

We headed back to the console room and settled in for the wait, but the silence was tense and uncomfortable. Neither of us had forgotten what I'd said, and I finally couldn't stand it any longer.

"I was tortured," I said quietly, trying to get it all out there before I chickened out again. "I'm sure you saw at the hospital—what could be seen from the back of the gown."

He nodded, expression serious. "I did."

"I… had information that the government wanted," I went on, wringing my hands in my lap. "I-Information that could hurt a lot of people… I only lasted two months."

"I'm sorry," he said genuinely. "But that doesn't make what happened your fault."

I shook my head. "No, it was. There were so many things I should have done… so many things I shouldn't have done. I was just… too damn clever…" I chuckled mirthlessly, and he frowned.

"What happened?"

"I—"

"All right, if I go out there and get covered in slop again, you're going to fly this thing _back_ to the 21st century, got it?" Martha huffed as she came downstairs, cutting our conversation short not a moment too soon. "Am I interrupting something?"

The Doctor opened his mouth, but I hopped off the jump-seat and spoke first.

"Nope. Just waiting for you."

He shot me a look but didn't push it as we headed out. It took me a second to gather the courage to walk out of the door, however, the Doctor patiently waited for me to come all the way out before returning to his joyful self.

"This is London?" Martha questioned, and he nodded as I looked around.

"I think so. Round about 1599."

"Oh, but hold on. Am I all right? I'm not going to get carted off as a slave, am I?"

I shook my head, a bit dazed. "Racism wasn't really a thing back then… or now, I mean. Money was more important."

"There you go!" The Doctor chirped, patting my shoulder cheerfully. "I'm not even human. Just walk about like you own the place. Works for me. Besides, Elizabeth England, not so different from your time. Look over there." He gestured to a man shoveling manure. "They've got recycling, water cooler moment…" He pointed at some workers chatting by a barrel as a preacher cut through the noise.

"And the world will be consumed by flame!"

"Global warming." The Doctor winked as we walked, soon picking up into a jog. "Oh, yes, and entertainment. Popular entertainment for the masses."

"You mean, plays?" I asked, relaxing slightly.

There wasn't much to ruin in 1599, after all.

"Well, if I'm right, we're just down the river by Southwark, right next to…" The Doctor grinned as we rounded the corner to view an amazing sight. "Oh, yes. The Globe Theatre! Brand new. Just opened. Through, strictly speaking, it's not a globe, it's a—"

"Tetradecagon," I answered excitedly, turning to him. "Fourteen sides, not round. Are we going to see a play? Please tell me we are."

He smirked as Martha cut in.

"Whoa, you don't mean… Is Shakespeare in there?"

"Oh, yes." He smiled, holding out his arm. "Miss Jones, Hawthorne, would you accompany me to the theatre?"

Marth looped her arm through his, grinning. "Mr. Smith, I will."

The Doctor glanced at me, waiting and offering his arm. I hesitated, but this was what I've always wanted to do, wasn't it? Go back in time, see what living was like, record it, fix errors in the writings of history? This was my chance. I could see a real Shakespeare play; right here, right now. The Doctor promised nothing would go wrong and it wasn't like we were going to deal with the author personally, so what was the harm?

"All right, I'm in," I said, taking his outstretched hand.

"When you get home, you can tell everyone you've seen Shakespeare, Martha." The Doctor teased as we started our walk.

"Then, I could get sectioned!" She laughed in return and I joined in as we neared the Globe Theatre.

"Nah, you'll only sound a _little_ crazy."

"Hey!"

* * *

The audience cheered and clapped as the performance ended and Martha turned to the Doctor in her excitement.

"That's amazing! Just amazing. It's worth putting up with the smell. And those are men dressed as women, yeah?"

"London never changes," he beamed. Reaching out to steady Hawthorne as she was bumped into. "Oops! Careful now. How'd you like it, Hawthorne?"

"It was brilliant! I'd never been to a play, but a proper Shakespeare play in 1599? Wow!" She breathed out and the Doctor blinked in surprise.

"You've never been to a play?"

Her smile faltered, but before she could answer, Martha tugged on his arm.

"Where's Shakespeare? I want to see Shakespeare. Author! Author!" She called out, then pausing. "Do people shout that? Do they shout 'author?'"

A number of audience members picked up the chant and the Doctor shrugged.

"Well, they do now." He caught Hawthorne's slightly anxious look and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry. It's fine."

She nodded, but the Doctor still worried. He wondered if she was time-sensitive, though the idea of a human with such an ability was more than rare. However, with how she'd been reacting to things thus far, it would make sense. Hard to tell with her though. She kept everything so close to her chest, and just when he would get her to open up something would interrupt, and she'd shut down. He was curious though. She seemed harmless enough, had good morals, and a clever head. What could have been so important that the government tortured her for it? And why was she so adamant about it being her fault?

The crowd grew louder as Shakespeare walked out onto the stage, and even the Doctor couldn't help but grin.

"Genius. He's a genius. _The genius_. The most human human there's ever been. Now we're going to hear him speak." The Doctor swooned. "Always he chooses the best words. New, beautiful, brilliant words."

Shakespeare did the opposite. "Ah, shut your big fat mouths!"

Hawthorne and the Doctor both looked rather disappointed at that.

"Oh, well."

"Shame."

Martha agreed. "You should never meet your heroes."

Shakespeare joked around with the audience for a bit before discussing the play and its ending.

"I know what you're all saying. 'Love's Labors Lost,' that's a funny ending, isn't it? It just stops. Will the boys get the girls? Well, don't get your hose in a tangle, you'll find out soon. Yeah, yeah. All in good time. You don't rush a genius." He smiled, before jerking abruptly. "When? Tomorrow night. The premiere of my brand-new play. A sequel, no less, and I call it 'Love's Labors Won.'"

The crowd cheered but the time-traveling trio didn't.

"I'm not an expert, but I've never heard of 'Love's Labors Won.'"

"Exactly. The lost play. It doesn't exist, only in rumors," the Doctor explained, frowning. "It's mentioned in lists of his plays but never ever turns up. And no one knows why."

"But… we're staying to find out, right?" Hawthorne spoke up, surprising the Doctor.

"I thought you'd be the one most _against_ staying after earlier."

She shuffled, looking away in embarrassment. "W-Well, if I had a time machine, I'd go back in time to see what the history books got wrong. Shakespeare's rumored lost play fits that bill."

_Ah, finally. A hint of enthusiasm._ The Doctor grinned. "Well, how could I say no to that? Let's go meet Shakespeare, shall we?"

* * *

_Oh, this is bad. I just wanted to stay somewhere and find out what happened, not __**meet**__ the man. _I fidgeted as we found the inn and headed up to meet Shakespeare. _I can't say I'm not excited though. So long as we don't get __**too**__ carried away, I think things might turn out all right._ Or so I thought. I still couldn't help the unease rolling in my gut at the memories of what happened to me before.

"Hello! Excuse me, not interrupting, am I? Mister Shakespeare, isn't it?" The Doctor chimed in and the playwright groaned.

"Oh, no. No, no, no. Who let you in? No autographs. No, you can't have yourself sketched with me. And _please_ don't ask where I get my ideas from. Thanks for the interest. Now be a good boy and shove—" He cut himself short as he spotted the rest of us. "Hey, nonny nonny. Sit right down here next to me." He grinned at Martha, shooing away the two men at his side, who rolled their eyes. "Sweet ladies. Such unusual clothes. So… fitted."

I went to sit beside the Doctor, but Shakespeare stopped me.

"Am I not charming enough, miss?"

I paused, confused and pointed at myself, earning a nod as he pat the chair on his other side.

"Come, sit by me. While your hair may be close-trimmed, you cannot fool these eyes. You are beautiful in your own right and I feel you are not told that enough."

I flushed, embarrassed at how forthcoming he was, but the Doctor nudged me, and I hesitantly moved to sit by Shakespeare.

"Er, verily, forsooth, egads," Martha attempted at Old English, but the Doctor grimaced as Shakespeare raised a brow.

"No, no. Don't do that. Don't." The Doctor shushed her, pulling out a wallet to show Shakespeare a slip of paper. "I'm Sir Doctor of Tardis and these are my companions, Miss Martha Jones, and Rebecca Hawthorne."

"Interesting," Shakespeare mused. "That bit of paper, it's blank."

The Doctor looked pleased, for some reason. "Oh, that's very clever. That proves it. Absolute genius."

Martha however, frowned. "No, it says so right there. Sir Doctor, Martha Jones. It says so."

"And I say it's blank," Shakespeare challenged, looking to me. "What say you, Rebecca?"

"Becky is fine," I muttered before shrugging. "Looks blank to me."

The Doctor's grin widened. "I thought so. You can see past the psychic paper too."

"Psychic?" Shakespeare questioned as I tried to figure out what the Doctor meant. "Never heard that before and words are my trade. Who are you exactly? More's the point, who is your delicious blackamoor lady and butchish woman?"

I blinked at the word "butchish" but Martha was far more offended at the reference to her skin color.

"What did you say?"

Poor Shakespeare struggled to understand how he'd upset her. "Oops. Isn't that a word we use nowadays? An Ethiop girl? A swarth? A Queen of Afric?"

Martha scoffed. "I can't believe I'm hearing this."

_It's a different time,_ I mused, knowing the man meant no harm.

"It's political correctness gone mad," the Doctor muttered, jumping in to try and help. "Er, Martha and Hawthorne are from a far-off land: Freedonia."

I couldn't help the snort that escaped me, not looking at the half-hearted glare the Doctor sent my way. I jumped when the door was slammed open though, feeling Shakespeare's arm around the back of my chair stiffen at the man who stormed in.

"Excuse me! Hold hard a moment. This is abominable behavior!" He shouted, red in the face as Shakespeare sighed and removed his arm from my back. "A new play with no warning? I demand to see a script, Mr. Shakespeare. As Master of Revels, every new script must be registered at my office and examined by me before it can be performed."

"Tomorrow morning, first thing, I'll send it 'round." Shakespeare tried to please him.

"I don't work to your schedule, you work to mine. The script, now!"

"I can't."

"Then, tomorrow's performance is canceled," the man declared. "I'm returning to my office for a banning order. If it's the last thing I do, 'Love's Labors Won' will never be played!"

He stormed out and I frowned.

"That's a bit much, for just wanting to perform a play abruptly."

Martha shrugged. "Well then, mystery solved. That's 'Love's Labors Won' over and done with. Thought it might be something more, you know, more mysterious."

Screams suddenly rang out outside and everyone got to their feet to find out what had happened. The Master of Revels lay on the road choking and coughing up water as people panicked. Martha and the Doctor rushed forward to help, but I was rooted to the spot. The panic was far too familiar. The screams ringing in my ears.

_World War III…_

_Kamikaze…_

_It's all your fault! __**You**__ did this!_

I jolted when a hand landed on my shoulder, turning to spot Shakespeare.

"Come. Let us return indoors. There is nothing either of us can do to assist and you look as though some brandy would do you good. You're pale as a sheet."

I followed him, grateful that he was so kind, and accepted the offered drink as we awaited Martha and the Doctor's return.

"You are very troubled," Shakespeare—_Will_—said abruptly, making me flinch. "And not just about poor Lynley either. It's… more than just the displeasure of death as well. No, you blame yourself for something."

_It's your fault!_

"_You killed him!"_

"_The future is…"_

"_I'm sorry, Miss Hawthorne…"_

I drank the brandy, a little faster than I wanted, wishing the Doctor would hurry up.

"It's a shame that something in your past bothers you so," he hummed, settling back in his chair as he nursed his own drink. "You have a brilliant mind, I can tell, but it would do better with a less sorrowful outlook on life."

Footfalls stopped our conversation as the Doctor and Martha finally returned—adding to the tense atmosphere in the room with emotions over the death of the Master of Revels. Dolly, the maid, entered for a brief moment to inform us our room was prepared for the evening, and as much as I wanted to bolt for it, doing so under Will's watchful eyes felt like a defeat.

"Poor Lynley," he sighed softly. "So many strange events. Not least of all, this land of Freedonia where a woman can comfortably dress so masculine and also be a doctor?"

Martha puffed up proudly. "Where a woman can do what she likes."

"And you, Sir Doctor. How can a man so young have eyes so old?"

The Doctor cracked a smile. "I do a lot of reading."

"A trite reply. Yeah, that's what I'd do. And you?" He turned back to Martha. "You look at him like you're surprised he exists. He's as much of a puzzle to you as he is to me." Will's eyes shifted to me. "And you are a puzzle to him and I as well, with your secrets and your pain. You are amazed by him, yet so _hesitant_. Why? What could you have done to make you appear so tired, so much older than your age? What calamity are you placing on your shoulders, Miss Hawthorne?"

"We should go to sleep," I said abruptly, unable to stand being so thoroughly analyzed for so long. "Goodnight."

Martha and the Doctor followed after me not much later, but I could tell that Will's words about me still had their attention. I was glad that Martha at least _attempted_ to ease up the tense atmosphere.

"It's not exactly five star, is it?"

"Oh, it'll do. I've seen worse," the Doctor hummed, though I could feel his eyes watching me as I settled down on the bed on the ground that had been haphazardly made.

"I haven't even got a toothbrush."

The Doctor's eyes finally left me as he dug through his coat pockets and pulled out what Martha had asked for.

"Contains Venusian Spearmint."

_Aliens on Venus have toothpaste?_ Was the first thought that went through my mind before Martha brought up a different point.

"So, who's going where? I mean, there's three of us and… well, a bed and a half."

"I'll—" I was cut off as the Doctor lightly tugged me up off of the bed on the floor.

"I'll take this one. Hawthorne's still recovering, so you two can take the bed."

I got the feeling that Martha wasn't too thrilled, but the Doctor was immoveable on the subject and she laid down beside me.

"So, magic and stuff," she started. "That's a surprise. It's all a little bit Harry Potter."

"Wait until you read book seven. Oh, I cried."

"Who?" I questioned, realizing my mistake when they both whipped around to me.

"You… You're kidding, right?" Martha questioned me. "You don't know Harry Potter?"

"N-No?"

"Oh, we are _so_ watching that later," the Doctor huffed.

_Not my fault I'm from another world line._ I pouted. "I don't watch movies, much less something about magic. Magic doesn't exist."

"Course not." The Doctor nodded, making Martha frown.

"Well, how am I supposed to know? I've only just started believing in time travel. Give me a break."

"_Give me a break. Time travel? You're insane. You can't make a time machine. I don't care __**how**__ clever you are. I'm not about to hire you just to goof off in your wild fantasies."_

I shook off the memory of a job interview and tried to listen to the Doctor properly.

"Looks like witchcraft, but it isn't. Can't be. There's such a thing as psychic energy, but a human couldn't channel it like that. Not without a generator the size of Taunton and I think we'd have spotted that. No, there's something I'm missing."

I grimaced, a headache and image of the Doctor on the bed with Martha passing through my mind.

"Something really close, staring me right in the face and I can't see it. Rose would know. A friend of mine, Rose. Right now, she'd say exactly the right thing. Still, can't be helped. You're both novices, never mind. I'll take you back home tomorrow."

"Great," Martha huffed, blowing out the candle and soon falling asleep.

I couldn't. Too many things were spinning through my mind. The headaches…

"_Budge up a bit, then. Sorry, there's not much room." Martha smirked at the Doctor. "Us two here, same bed. Tongues will wag."_

…my work back home…

"_No. I'm not giving you funding. Your ideas are insane! Time machine, bah! Just do your work properly. We need that generator ready by—"_

…all those terrible things that happened because of me…

_This is all your fault!_

_Fire… Screaming…_

_German Nazis._

"_I'm sorry, Miss Hawthorne."_

…my parents…

"_I can't deal with this anymore!"_

"_What! And you think __**I**__ can! Just send her to a psychiatrist!"_

"_Psychiatrist? Why! So, they can pick __**our**__ lives apart?"_

"_Well, we can't just get rid of her!"_

…and those haunting words… Will's words…

"_It's a shame…"_

"…_with your secrets and your pain…"_

"_What calamity are you placing on your shoulders…"_

"_What could you have done…"_

I covered my eyes with my hands, forcing myself to take a deep, shaky breath in, nearly jumping out of my skin when the Doctor spoke.

"Can't sleep?"

"I've never been good at it," I joked lightly. "You should have known that by now, having to keep an eye on me when we first met."

"Touché," he hummed. "Anything I can do to help?"

I smiled a little in the dark. "Not unless you can stop my brain from thinking."

"Not safely," he teased. "I can distract you,, if that would help. I enjoy a good ramble."

"Knock yourself out."

"All right, then. So, there's this planet, right? And they've got the _strangest_—"

He went on like that for an unknown amount of time just… talking. He'd done it before, back at the hospital and I was grateful. While it would still take a while for me to get to sleep—and I would still have nightmares either way—it kept me from thinking, from remembering. And for a moment, that was all I needed. Right as I started to settle into the rhythm of his words though, a scream cut through the silence. I jolted up, heart racing in fear as the scream rattled around in my mind—mixing with past memories.

_Fighting… war… fire… death…_

I was startled out of my daze though when Martha too rushed from the room. I took a deep breath to try and calm my nerves before trailing after them. I wasn't expecting the dead body of the maid in Will's office however and jerked to a stop. I didn't even notice the cackling witch that had flown away. I was escorted out and downstairs with the others soon enough though, and we waited out the rest of the night.

"Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey. She sat out three bouts of the plague in this place when we all ran like rats." Will sighed heavily. "But what could have scared her so? She had such enormous spirit."

"'Rage, rage against the dying of the light,'" the Doctor quoted.

"I might use that," Will hummed, making me stiffen.

"You can't. It's someone else's," the Doctor answered calmly.

"But the thing is, Lynley drowned on dry land, Dolly died of fright, and they were both connected to you," Martha mused.

"You're accusing _me_?"

I shook my head. "Not accusing so much as finding a common link between the two."

I rubbed my head at a headache but was unable to focus on the image that passed through my mind as Martha cut in.

"But the witch—"

"Peter Streete spoke of witches," Will mused, catching our attention.

"Who's Peter Streete?"

"Our builder. He sketched the plans to the Globe."

"The architect. Hold on. The architect!" The Doctor practically shouted. "The architect! The Globe! Come on!"

He rushed off and we hurried after him to the Globe where he decided we needed to see Peter Streete for information on the making of the fourteen-sided Globe and witches. Problem was, he was shut up in Bedlam: the madhouse. I was not thrilled to be heading there with my issues—both said and unsaid. Will, of all people, seemed to notice my discomfort as we approached the building and—for once—I didn't mind him taking my hand to keep me calm and grounded in reality.

"So, tell me of Freedonia, where women can be doctors, writer, actors." He chatted with me idly.

"Women can do whatever they want, really. Most people can, but that doesn't mean that there isn't still prejudice," I rambled, my free hand drumming fingers on my thigh in my nervousness.

"This country's ruled by a woman," Martha jumped in, having been listening.

"Ah, she's royal. That's God's business. Though you are both royal beauties."

I turned my gaze away as my cheeks flushed; not used to his—or anyone's—advances.

"Whoa, Nelly. I know for a fact you've got a wife in the country," Martha exclaimed, opposed to the thought of his flirting.

"But Martha, this is _town_."

"Come on. We can all have a good flirt later," the Doctor muttered, sparking mischief in Will's eyes.

"Is that a promise, Doctor?"

I cracked a small smile as the Doctor groaned.

"Oh, fifty-seven academic just punched the air. Now move!"

The closer we got to the building, the more on edge I felt. Will squeezed my hand in reassurance, but it did little to stop the memories as we entered to cries and wails of the supposed _patients_.

"_Now, Rebecca, tell me what's bothering you. Tell me how things are at home."_

"…" _A little girl hugged her rabbit closer._

"_All right, what about school then? Do you have any friends? You get very good grades, but your parents are worried. They said you're getting bullied. Is that right?"_

_Her knuckles were a pale white against the fabric of her rabbit's brown vest—eyes fixed on the floor. She flinched when the man sighed._

"_Your parents mention that you like science, space. Tell me about that, hm?"_

_She finally looked up, opened her mouth and—_

"Now get out!"

I jerked at the Doctor's shout, breath hitched and heart in my throat. Will's hand in mine was clenched tight as he tugged me to his side and rubbed at my arm. I wasn't staying grounded. Even with his help, I was floating away like a balloon—higher, higher into the clouds, into those cursed years. Years when "help" was more harm than good.

_Tears sprang to the girl's eyes as her cheek stung and her mother wailed at her._

"_What did you tell him! You brat, what did you say! This is why I didn't want you to do this, but your father __**insisted**__. Dammit, now __**we're**__ taking the blame! Is that what you want! Do you want us to go to jail!"_

"_No!" She finally cried. "H-He just asked me a-about space! A-And m-m-my science p-project! H-He wanted to know if y-you or daddy were helping—B-But I-I told him you didn't need to. I-I could do it by myself! I—"_

"_You stupid child! __**You **__did this! This is all your fault! We're not going back there. You're done!"_

"_B-But—"_

"_No! Go! Go to your room! Go and don't come out! God, don't you see? You're tearing this family apart!"_

"Let your mind go back," the Doctor murmured to Peter Streete on the bed before us, but his words echoed in my ears. "Back to when everything was fine and shining."

_Fine and shining? Was… Was there ever a time?_

"It was just a story. A winter's tale. Let go. That's it. That's it, just let go."

_I can't. I-I can't let go. No, I mustn't!_

"_Give me the damn rabbit!"_

"_No! Y-You can't have Mr. Smith!"_

"_You're too old for this! This is why people pick on you! This is why your father left us! You are always talking to this damn thing! People are talking about __**me**__ now! I'm not the crazy one! Now, give me the rabbit!"_

"_No! Stop! You're hurting him!"_

"_It's not real!"_

"_He is to me!"_

_**Rip.**_

"Tell me a story…"

"_It's okay, Mr. Smith. I-I fixed you up, see?" The girl sniffed, lifting a haphazardly sewn on rabbit ear. "A-And I cleaned you up in the w-washer when mommy was asleep, s-so she doesn't know I found you in the g-garbage can outside. S-She doesn't know, s-so I'll hide you and k-keep you safe like you help me." She forced a smile on her face as she opened up a book. "I'll even read you a-a story to help you feel better. I-It always makes me feel better… 'The sign on the wall seemed to quaver under a film of sliding warm water…'" __**(AN: A Sound of Thunder by Ray Bradbury; a time travel short story)**_

"Let us out! Let us out!"

My focus came back to the present when Martha jarred my shoulder in her attempt to get to the cell door. A new figure was in the room with us now and despite my pale and panicked features, I was somehow able to stay present in the current situation.

"Who will die first, hm?" The older woman who'd appeared purred and the Doctor took a step forward.

"Well, if you're looking for volunteers."

"No! Don't!" Martha cried out as I struggled for words.

"Doctor, can you stop her?" Will asked, having more faith in him than we did, apparently.

"No mortal has power over me," the witch scoffed.

"Oh, but there's power in words. If I can find the right one. If I can just know you."

"None on Earth has knowledge of us."

The Doctor smirked at that. "Then, it's a good thing I'm here. Now think, think, think. Humanoid female, uses shapes and words to channel energy. Ah! Fourteen!" The Doctor beamed. "That's it! Fourteen! The fourteen stars of the Rexel planetary configuration! Creature, I name you Carrionite!"

With a gesture of his finger, the witch vanished with a cry, leaving us be.

"What did you do?" Martha asked.

"I named her. The power of a name. That's old magic," the Doctor mused, but I shook my head.

"T-T-There no s-such thing," I stuttered out, still rattled from earlier as I wrapped my arms around myself.

The Doctor frowned, moving towards me and lightly prying my hands from their death grip on my arms. "What is it? What's wrong? I doubt this was the witch."

I winced, closing my eyes with a sharp inhale. "I-I need to go. I c-can't be here. Please."

He nodded, tucking me into his side as he called the guard, and we left while he explained "magic" to distract me.

"It's just a different sort of science. You lot, you chose mathematics. Given the right string of numbers, the right equation, you can split the atom. Carrionites use words instead."

"Use them for what?" Will asked curiously.

"The end of the world.

_You did this!_

_It's the end of the world._

_No, the end of the universe._

_I'm the one who caused this._

_I—_

Something was placed in my hands, pulling my mind out of its descending spiral. We were in Will's office now, something I hadn't noticed, and the Doctor was knelt before me—having pressed a warm cup of tea into my shaking digits.

"Talk to me, Becky," he urged gently. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"I-I…" I cursed the return of my stutter but pressed on. "I-I don't like m-mental institutions… o-or psychiatrists."

"Oh… _Oh._ I'm so sorry," he apologized. "You should have said something. You didn't have to go in there."

I managed a small smile of reassurance. "I-It's fine. I've c-calmed down a little."

He glanced around, probably ensuring that Will and Martha were still focused on finding a map for him and not hearing our conversation.

"Was it for your stutter? It seems more prominent when you're anxious, so I assumed it caused issues when you were younger."

I grimaced at how close he was to the truth. The truth I wasn't quite ready to spill yet.

"P-Partially. I wasn't… well-liked at school." _Or at home._ "I-I was sent to get help by m-my father. T-They helped my stutter, b-but my parents stopped t-taking me."

His brows creased, probably not understanding how psychiatrists bothered me now when they actually helped. I wasn't telling him the whole story though. I wasn't telling him about the psychological torture the government did. I wasn't telling him how my mother became abusive over what I had said at my meetings. I was scared, not of them, but of what always came after. I was scared of those memories and I was scared of telling the Doctor the truth. Of how every scream reminded me of those people _I_ killed, and every shout reminded me of my mother. That's why I was grateful when the other two returned with the map and we got to work.

"The Carrionites disappeared way back at the dawn of the universe," the Doctor explained, looking the map over. "Nobody was sure if they were real or legend."

"Well, I'm going for real," Will quipped, giving me a small concerned look that I waved off with a small smile.

"But what do they want?" Martha questioned.

"A new empire on Earth. A world of bone and blood and witchcraft." The Doctor shrugged.

"But how?"

"I'm looking at the man with the words."

All eyes went to Will, who stiffened.

"Me? But I've done nothing."

Something clicked in my head then.

"You were working on the play w-when Dolly was killed, right?" I asked, and he nodded. "And Lynley was trying to stop the play and _he_ was killed too, so it has to do with the p-play, doesn't it?"

The Doctor smiled. "Now, _there's_ the Hawthorne I know. What happens on the last page?"

Will frowned in thought. "The boys get the girls. They have a bit of a dance. It's all as funny and thought-provoking as usual…" He sat forward then. "Except those last few lines. Funny thing is, I don't actually remember writing them."

"That's it. They used you," the Doctor declared. "They gave you the final words like a spell, like a code. 'Love's Labors Won.' It's a weapon. The right combination of words, spoken at the right place, with the shape of the Globe—"

"As a conductor! An energy conductor!" I jumped in in understanding, and he nodded.

"'The play's the thing!' And yes, you can have that," he informed Will, who smiled. "All Hallows Street. There it is," he said, finding it on the map. "Martha, Hawthorne, we'll track them down. Will, you get to the Globe. Whatever you do, stop that play."

"I'll do it." He took the Doctor's hand in admiration. "All these years I've been the cleverest man around. Next to you and Hawthorne, I know nothing." He winked at my flushed face as Martha rolled her eyes.

"Oh, don't complain."

"I'm not. It's marvelous. Good luck, Doctor."

"Good luck, Shakespeare. 'Once more unto the breach.'"

"I like that." Will frowned. "Wait a minute, that's one of mine!"

"Oh, just shift! Come on, Hawthorne."

I nodded hastily, having not noticed him and Martha already out the door. Will grabbed my wrist though, stopping me. I turned only for his lips to press to mine—pulling away before the action registered in my head.

"Stay safe, my dear. Don't let those monsters take your mind just yet." Will smiled, giving me a nudge and I hurried to catch up with the others, mind in a panic.

_I-I was just kissed by Shakespeare… I-I was… What?_

* * *

"All Hallows Street, but which house?" The Doctor muttered to himself as Hawthorne panted by his side with a hand wrapped around her old injury. "'bout time you showed up," he lightly chided her. "Was beginning to think he charmed you into going with him instead."

"H-He… He _kissed_ me!" She squeaked out and the Doctor chuckled.

"Well, how about that?"

Martha cut in then, looking a little peeved. "The thing is, though, am I missing something here? The world didn't end in 1599. It just didn't. Look at me. I'm living proof."

"Oh, how to explain the mechanics of the infinite temporal flux?" The Doctor sighed, and Hawthorne grunted.

"Tell me about it. That was my _job_. The easiest way for me was 'Back to the Future.'"

The Doctor snapped his fingers with a grin. "That's it! It's like 'Back to the Future!'"

Martha blinked. "The film?"

"No, the novelization. _Yes_, the film," the Doctor answered, missing Hawthorne's surprised look at the unknown connection between her universe and this one. "Marty McFly goes back and changes history."

"And he starts fading away. Oh my God, am I going to fade?"

"You and the entire future of the human race. It ends right now in 1599 if we don't stop it."

"We have to."

He glanced at Hawthorne with a slightly worried look at her abrupt seriousness. Something about what he'd said seemed to have triggered it, but he'd worry about that later. They had a house to find. Or, a house to find them, seeing how a door opened not too far off.

"Ah, make that _witch_ house," the Doctor joked, and the trio entered the building hesitantly.

A young blonde woman waited in the upper room and the Doctor hummed.

"I take it we're expected."

"Oh, I think Death has been waiting for you a very long time." She smirked, eyes passing over the group, lingering on Hawthorne for a moment before returning to the Doctor's.

"Right then, it's my turn. I know how to do this," Martha announced confidently, pointing at the woman. "I name thee Carrionite!"

The woman faked a gasp and Martha frowned.

"What did I do wrong? Was it the finger?"

"The power of a name only works once," the witch explained. "Observe. I gaze upon this bag of bones and now I name thee Martha Jones."

Martha collapsed in the Doctor's arms and he glared as Hawthorne started to look worried.

"What have you done?" He snapped, but the witch hummed.

"Only sleeping, alas. It's curious. The name has less impact. She's somehow out of her time, much like you."

Hawthorne stiffened at her gaze, making the Doctor bristle.

"Leave her alone."

"Oh, but aren't you curious, Doctor?" The witch smirked. "Out of our time, out of place, not rightly born, I name thee Rebecca Hawthorne."

Hawthorne cringed, grabbing the fabric of her shirt just above her heart, but didn't collapse—just broke a sweat.

"See?" The witch hummed. "Curious, isn't it? You aren't from this time, nor this world. You name had little power in a place you don't belong."

The Doctor frowned at those words, looking at the nervous and pale woman, but the witch turned her attention back to him.

"And as for you, Sir Doctor…" She paused, grin growing as he faced her down challengingly. "Fascinating. There is no name. Why would a man hide his title in such despair? Oh, but look. There's still one word with the power that aches."

"The naming won't work on me."

"But your heart grows cold. The north wind blows and carries down the distant _Rose_."

The Doctor took a threatening step forward, only being held back by Hawthorne's grip on his hand. "Oh, big mistake. Because that name keeps me fighting. The Carrionites vanished. Where did you go?"

"The Eternals found the right word to banish us into deep darkness," she answered, eyeing him.

"And how did you escape?"

"New words. New and glittering, from a mind like no other."

"Shakespeare," Hawthorne muttered, and she nodded.

"His son perished. The grief of a genius. Grief without measure. Madness enough to allow us entrance."

"How many of you?" The Doctor asked.

"Just the three. But the play tonight shall restore the rest. Then, the human race will be purged as pestilence. And from this world, we will lead the universe back into the old ways of blood and magic."

"Hmm. Busy schedule. But first, you've got to get past me."

"Oh, that should be a pleasure." She smirked, sliding closer to him. "Considering my enemy has such a handsome shape."

"Now, that's one form of magic that's definitely not going to work on me," he huffed as the witch ran a hand down his cheek.

"Oh, we'll see."

She jerked to his side then and yanked out one of Hawthorne's hairs, making both her and the Doctor blink in shock.

"What did you do?"

"Souvenir." She smirked. "That's the problem with companions, Doctor. You get too close."

"Give it back!" Hawthorne said, but the witch flew out the window before she could reach her.

"Well, that's just cheating." The Doctor quipped.

"Behold, Doctor, what the power of the Carrionites can do to someone not from this universe," she cackled, wrapping the hair around a small doll.

"Now, you might call that magic. I'd call that a DNA replication module," the Doctor muttered, eyes shifting worryingly between the doll and Hawthorne.

"What use is your science now?" The witch cackled, jabbing a penknife into the doll.

Hawthorne let out a cry of pain, falling to her knees and clutching her shirt as the witch flew off. The Doctor rushed to her side as she moved to lay down, breath ragged, and eyes clenched shut in agony.

"Hang in there, Hawthorne! Don't you _dare_ die on me! Don't even think about it!" The Doctor shouted, scanning her with his sonic only to curse at the results and throw it to the ground as he checked her pulse.

"W-What happened?" Martha asked, waking up only to spot Hawthorne. "Oh, my God! Is she all right?" She hurried over as well taking the woman's wrist only for her expression to fall. "Doctor, she—"

"_Don't_," he snapped harshly, clenching his eyes shut to try and hold back the emotions slipping through.

The hand he was holding lightly squeezed his, making him look down at the struggling Hawthorne who was somehow managing to small smile.

"I-It's… okay," she wheezed out, cringing as her heart fought against the invisible attack it had been dealt. "I-I d-deserve—"

"No. No, don't you dare say that." He stopped her, _hating_ how she believed she deserved death and wishing she would be okay so he could prove her wrong.

But he knew that would be impossible.

"Y-Y-You're… t-too nice," she sighed, taking a blink that lasted much too long. "I… I'm not… from here… I-I should have t-told you, b-but… I was s-s-scared… I'm s-so scared."

"It's okay. I'm right here," the Doctor breathed out, but she'd closed her eyes and her breathing stilled as tears finally slipped down his face.

Martha choked out a sob herself, having barely known the woman, but feeling guilty at how she'd treated her. _And now she's dead._ The Doctor stood then and turned away, making to leave.

"Come, Martha."

"B-But she—"

"We'll come back for her, but we have to deal with this first." His voice went chilly as he left the room, eyes reflecting the Oncoming Storm. "They'll pay for what they've done."

* * *

Dying once was hard. She supposed that's what happened the first time, when she ended up in that alleyway. Now, she wasn't so sure. Wasn't _this_ death? The endless floating, the shifting of nothing but her mind and time itself? Then, why was it so familiar? Why did it feel like—

"_I'm sorry, Miss Hawthorne."_

Pain returned, her chest aching as the silence and the darkness was cut by a pounding in her ears and a dim glow behind her eyelids. It was cold too. Not the bone-deep cold of death but there was a chilled bite to the air brushing her cheeks and she shivered, pulling the covering closer to her.

Then, thoughts hit. Her eyes fought to open as realization dawned on her. She was cold, aching, _thinking_. The witch hadn't killed her. She was alive, _breathing_. It was wrong. So very wrong. People don't die and come back to life. It was a scientific impossibility, so how? She needed answers. She needed the Doctor. She needed to _move_!

"Ah, you shouldn't be up just yet," a voice said, as her eyes finally cracked open, revealing blurred vision. "You nearly froze to death out there. Ya need your strength back first."

"D-Doc… tor?"

The man shook his head as her vision started to clear, revealing a rugged African American.

"Sorry. There's no doc here, but I know a few things. You'll be all right. Just rest."

She didn't want to. She feared the things that would undoubtedly haunt her, but her body won the battle and her eyes slipped back shut. All the while, her mind running in circles around the question: _why am I alive?_


	3. Chapter 3

Nine months. It was _far_ too long to be jobless and even longer to be homeless. Yet, all I could think about was them. The Doctor, Martha… I was dead to them. Hell, I'd probably _vanished_ in their eyes. As for my death (life?) I still had no answer. I remembered dying and everything that came along with it—

_Where am I?_

_What… What am I?_

_It's dark…_

_Is it?_

_What…_

Yet, here I was; searching dumpsters and trash for something edible or for parts for the space-heater I was trying to make for the camp. Here I was in Central Park, New York, 1930. I had theories about that part. Time travel, universe line jumping, a sort of reincarnation. None of the "why" though and even less of the "how any of it worked." As it was, I was struggling just to get enough to survive, so why focus on what I don't know? _Because that's how you __**live, **_a voice in my head taunted me, but I brushed it aside as I found a scrap of stale bread and some metal coils that might be strong enough to handle conducting heat.

I took my prizes and rushed back to the park, using the activity to keep my slim build heated in the chilly November air. I headed for Solomon's tent first to check-in and show him my spoils, ignoring the other voices coming from inside and bursting through the tent flaps.

"Solomon! I think I finally found the parts I needed!" I grinned, waving my loaf of bread. "And I found breakfast!"

"H-Hawthorne?"

I turned to the person who spoke as he and the woman beside him stood, feeling my heart leap into my throat at the sight of them.

"D-Doc—" I cut myself short before I could call out to the two—doubts beginning to sink in.

_Not yet. We don't know. It might not be them. M-Might be an alternate version of them. Might just have their voices, their faces…_ I tried to convince myself, worried about getting my hopes up if I was wrong. _But… they know my name…_ Arms wrapped around me tightly, hands pressing my face into a strong chest as a voice drifted over me.

"Y-You're okay… Thank _goodness_ you're all right." The Doc—_man_—pulled away, placing his hands on my face with wet, shiny eyes looking down at mine. "How? You were dead. I was there. I…"

He swallowed, unable to continue as I managed to get my own voice working.

"I-I don't really know. I thought I died, but… Solomon found me a-and…" _It has to be him. It must be._ My tongue felt thick in my mouth as tears welled in my eyes, and I managed a crooked smile. "I-I'm so glad to see you."

He grinned, laughing and grabbing me in a hug once more to spin me around—despite the lack of space in the tent. Once back on my feet, Martha hugged me too, sighing out her gratitude that I was alive, before Solomon spoke up—confused as to what was going on.

"I take it you know them then, Beck?"

I nodded, rather fond of his nickname for me, and picked up the coils and bread I dropped. "They're good friends of mine. Didn't expect to, um, see them again, honestly."

He grunted, eyeing the group of us before another person poked their head into the tent.

"Solomon, Mr. Diagoras is here," Frank—one of the younger members of Hooverville—announced, and we hurried out to see what he wanted this time.

"Who's Diagoras?" The Doctor asked.

"Some rich guy who gives us job offers. Poor ones," I hummed. "His last group of volunteers hasn't come back, so I'm more than wary of him."

"Hm, good," he mused, ruffling my hair and pushing the beanie I was wearing over my eyes.

I huffed, straightening it and grumbling as I chewed on my bread—coils safely put away in my coat pocket.

"I need men, volunteers," Diagoras called out to the small group of people listening. "I've got a little work for you and you sure look like you could use some money."

"How much?" I chimed back, earning a small surprised glance from the Doctor.

I didn't usually speak out so openly, but I had to change these last nine months.

"A dollar a day," Diagoras replied, making me click my tongue at the low amount—Solomon speaking up as well.

"What's the work?"

"A little trip down the sewers. Got a tunnel collapse needs clearing and fixing. Any takers?"

I huffed, knowing the wage wasn't worth the risk.

"A dollar a day? That's slave wage. And men don't always come back up, do they?" Solomon accused, some men in the group muttering in agreement.

"Accidents happen." Diagoras shrugged and the Doctor took a step forward.

"What do you mean? What sort of accidents?"

I shot the Doctor a look. "Oh, you're not just here to see the sights, are you?"

He winked, raising a hand and making Diagoras scowl.

"Enough with the questions."

"Oh, no, no, no. I'm volunteering. I'll go." The Doctor smiled, and I missed whatever Martha grumbled as she lifted her hand as well.

The Doctor raised a questioning brow at me and I rose mine as well, not willing to part from his side just yet. Not when we'd actually managed to find each other again. Solomon and Frank surprisingly joined us too, and we were soon dropped off in the sewers with a single lamp and some shovels.

"Turn left. Go about a half a mile. Follow tunnel two seven three. Fall's right ahead of you, you can't miss it." Diagoras directed us and Frank frowned.

"And when do we get our dollar?"

"When you come back up."

"And if we _don't_ come back up?" The Doctor challenged.

"Then, I got no one to pay."

"Don't worry. We'll be back," Solomon declared as the latch was shut and Diagoras left us in the dark.

_Dark… so dark…_

_What am I…_

_Who…_

I grimaced, digging through my pockets and sighing in relief as I pulled out a homemade torch—grateful I'd begun to keep it on me at all times. I hadn't _been_ afraid of the dark but dying had apparently changed that.

"You all right, Hawthorne?" The Doctor asked as we started walking, placing a hand on my shoulder and making me tense.

"Relatively," I answered honestly. "Just… not a fan of the dark."

"Really?"

I winced but forced myself to continue on my honest streak. "I… I _did_ die before, Doctor. It… wasn't pleasant."

"And yet, you're alive. Alive and moved to a different time and place," he muttered as I fought to look away from his probing gaze. "You really don't know what happened?"

"No. I have theories but…" I cracked a shaky smile. "Each one is more ridiculous than the last."

"Ooh, I love a good theory." He smiled, easing the somewhat tense atmosphere between us. "Go on. Hit me with one of your theories."

I hesitated but soon spoke up, knowing that a time-traveling alien in a police box was undoubtedly just as unrealistic. "Perhaps I… When I died, I sort of slipped through a crack in the universe?"

"Hm, that's good but I would have probably noticed something like that." He tapped his head. "Time Lord."

I shrugged. "It's my best theory. Reincarnation would be my other one but I'm still in my own body, so that doesn't quite work."

"There's one thing that's been bugging me though," the Doctor said, stopping and putting some distance between us and the others. "You said you weren't from here."

"_I… I'm not… from here."_

I stiffened as he shifted to stand in front of me, keeping me from leaving.

"The witch mentioned it too. Out of time, out of place, not of this world. Hawthorne, what are you?"

"Human," I muttered, and his eyes narrowed.

"Then, what did you mean? What did _she_ mean?"

"I-I…" I swallowed thickly.

I could tell him this much, couldn't I? Not of my life and what I did, but…

"I-I think I-I-I'm from a-another universe," I finally stuttered out, running a hand through my hair with a grimace. "I-I know it sounds impossible, but it's m-my best guess. The technology was wrong. There's things mentioned that I've never heard of but… t-that's not the first time I've died."

The Doctor frowned. "What do you mean?"

I shook my head, growing more anxious the more I thought about it. "I-I thought I'd died. I… I was _expecting_ to die but then I was at that hospital—in the alley you found me in. I-I don't know what happened. Even now, it's like it's happened again, a-and I-I was scared. I-I didn't know w-what to say. If I should say anything. I-I'm not an idiot. I-I know how crazy I sound, a-and I don't want to deal with that again."

"_Look, look. It's her."_

"_Her? Oh, the crazy one. Have you seen it? She muttered to herself all the time. To that rabbit too."_

"_She's __**got**__ to be nuts. She's seventeen!"_

"_Always going on about time travel nonsense too. Did you hear about her parents? Word is, dad left, and her mom went insane, used some new kind of drug and tried to kill her before hanging herself."_

"I-I'm sorry. I-I'm s-so sorry," I apologized, fingers tugging at my hair as the air began to get harder to take in. "R-Really. I-I'm not crazy. Y-You have t-to believe me."

I flinched at the hand that reached for me, but the Doctor persisted and slowly pulled me to his chest.

"It's all right, Becky. It's okay. I believe you. Really. You're not crazy. A parallel universe is hardly unthought of, and it's all right," he murmured, and I clung to his coat with a sob as he rang his hand through my hair comfortingly. "Oh, you've had it rough, haven't you?"

"Doctor?" Martha called out in the distance and I tried to pull myself together as the Doctor sighed.

"We'll talk about this more later, all right? I won't force you or anything but…" He smiled a bit, wiping my cheek with his sleeve. "I think it'd be good for you to get some of that out. Now, cheer up. Martha will scold me if she finds out I made you cry."

I chuckled a little at that, earning a wider grin from the Doctor at my slightly happier demeanor, and we hurried to catch up with the others.

"Where did you two go?" She chided us, and the Doctor rubbed the back of his head. "Just got distracted, is all."

"Sure, you did," She scoffed as a sharp pain went through my mind.

"_So, this Diagoras bloke. Who is he then?" The Doctor asked Solomon._

I grimaced, rubbing my forehead as the image and headache passed—the Doctor letting out a cry of surprise as he discovered something.

"Whoa!"

"Is it radioactive or something?" Martha asked as I went closer to get a look at the green blob they'd found. "It's gone off, whatever it is," she complained at the smell only for the Doctor to go and pick it up. "And you've got to pick it up…"

"Shine your torch through it," the Doctor said, and she obliged. "Composite organic matter. Martha? Medical opinion?"

"It's not human. I know that."

"Hawthorne?" He turned to me. "Any theories?"

I cracked a smile at that, eyeing the object. "Dunno. Looks like a green blob but if it was dumped here, then it was probably junk. Failed experiment perhaps? Alien poo? Could be just about anything, to be honest."

"Good, good. I'll tell you what though." He stood from his crouch, pocketing the jelly. "We must be at least half a mile in. I don't see any sign of a collapse, do you? So, why did Mr. Diagoras send us down here?"

"Where are we now? What's above us?" Martha asked.

"Well, we're right underneath Manhattan."

Solomon frowned. "We're _way_ beyond half a mile. There's no collapse. Nothing."

"That Diagoras bloke, was he lying?"

"Probably." I shrugged.

"So, why'd he want people to come down here?" Frank asked.

"Solomon, I think it's time you took these three back. I'll be much quicker on my own," the Doctor declared but before we could argue, there was a loud squeal from further down the tunnels.

"What the hell was that?"

Frank stepped forward. "Hello?"

Solomon and Martha tried to stop him, but he was adamant.

"What if it's one of the folk gone missing? You'd be scared and half mad down here on your own."

"Do you think they're still alive?" The Doctor questioned.

"Heck, we ain't seen no bodies down here. Maybe they just got lost."

More squeals echoed down the corridor and I frowned.

"Sounds more like animal noises than human."

Solomon agreed. "I know I never heard nobody make a sound like that."

"Where's it coming from? Sounds like there's more than one of them."

"This way," the Doctor called, trying to lead us closer.

"No, that way," Solomon corrected, his torch lighting up a figure crouched in the shadows.

"Doctor?" Martha murmured hesitantly.

"Who are you?" Solomon tried, followed by Frank.

"Are you lost? Can you understand me? I've been thinking about folk lost down—"

I pulled his coat, stopping him as the Doctor moved past us cautiously.

"It's all right, Frank. Just stay back. Let me have a look." He moved closer and knelt down. "He's got a point though, my mate Frank. I'd hate to be stuck down here on my own. We know the way out. Daylight. If you come with us…" He must have seen something because he trailed off. "Oh, but what are you?"

We moved closer as well to see a sort of… pig man.

"Is that, uh, some kind of carnival mask?" Solomon questioned in disbelief.

"No, it's real. I'm sorry. Now, listen to me. I promise I can help. Who did this to you?"

It couldn't seem to respond but Martha turned our attention to elsewhere; to the pig-men growing ever closer.

"Doctor, I think you'd better get back here. Doctor!"

"Actually, good point," he murmured, getting up and backing away with the rest of us.

"They're following you."

"Yeah, I noticed that, thanks. Well then, Martha, Frank, Solomon, Hawthorne." He reached out behind him and took my hand. "Uh, basically, run!"

"Where are we going!" Martha questioned after a moment of running, disoriented in the maze of tunnels.

"This way!" The Doctor said, jerking me in another direction as he spotted something. "It's a ladder! Come on!"

He pulled out his sonic to open the cover and clambered up; Martha and Solomon quickly going up after him, but I spotted Frank grabbing an iron bar to fight with.

"Are you mad!" I shouted, grabbing his coat and pulling him to the ladder. "We don't have the time or numbers for that! Move!"

He begrudgingly abandoned it and hurried up the ladder with me hot on his tail.

"Frank! Beck! Come on!" Solomon called down to us, helping Frank through, then reaching for me.

Hands grabbed my legs though, pulling me to a stop as I tried to get loose to no avail.

"Hawthorne!"

I was yanked off the ladder as the cover was placed back over my escape, letting out a grunt as I landed roughly on my backside. I rubbed at my head as an image of Frank getting pig-napped passed through my mind, but I was less focused on my strange headaches and more concerned about the pig-men surrounding me.

"Right… hello," I muttered, slowly getting to my feet curiously. "You're all rather odd… but in a good way! I mean…" I got a look at their tattered clothes. "You must be the other lost people from Hooverville then like Frank thought, which can only mean…" I managed to crack a shaky grin. "Something's changed you. Something alien. Undoubtedly so. Well, take me to your leader!"

They moved forward, herding me down the tunnels as I glanced back at the ladder. _I'm worried, but they're not hurting me and maybe I could get away somehow or investigate. Though, if it comes down to it, I suppose being a pig is better than—_I stopped that thought short before it could go any further, shaking my head. _No. I've only just found the Doctor again. I won't think of that, of what I went through. I need to just stay strong until I either find a way out or he finds me. _I took a deep breath and let it out. _I can do this. For the Doctor._

* * *

The Doctor looked over the green organic material with a frown, digging as deep as he could to try and figure out what was going on. The sooner he did, the sooner he'd be able to help and find Hawthorne. He pushed away from the table with a sigh at the thought, rubbing his eyes as he remembered her death. He had been so upset, so _angry_, and now he's learned she's died before? Died and somehow traveled from one universe to another? He believed her, but he struggled on how it could have happened. With Rose and Pete's world, it was one thing, but those openings were closed. It should be impossible.

_And how scared she must have been, thinking she was dying again, alone in another universe. _He looked up at the ceiling somberly. _She's always managing to smile too, but those panic attacks, the stuttering and forced joy. I know it's hard being cleverer than others, but what could have happened to make her this way? _He shook his head, sitting up and moving back to the table and his experiment. _I'll work it out with her later. Right now, I need to do this and find her. Don't worry, Hawthorne. I'm coming._

* * *

"Whoa…" I breathed out, looking at the lab around me in stunned awe until a large pepper-pot robot prodded me further in.

"You have superior knowledge on science. You will assist in the Final Experiment," it commanded, and I nodded idly—mind running, _racing_ with ideas.

_So, these things are the aliens, obviously. While I'm glad being clever has saved me from being a pig-man, I'm a bit concerned about this experiment they're doing. They're obviously the quote-on-quote "bad guys" in this situation, but I doubt they'll let me simply refuse to help. So… sabotage? It'll have to be stealthy, if they've already got some idea of what they're doing, but I'm sure I'll figure something out and… _I blinked at the smoking pepper-pot nearby, pointing.

"Is that supposed to happen?"

The other creatures shuffled uncertainly.

"Stop the process! Dalek Sec is failing!"

"No," the smoking Dalek Sec replied, voice glitching. "The experiment must continue. Administer the solution. We must evolve. Evolve. Evolve!"

I stiffened, remembering the last time I'd heard that.

"_You see, Miss Hawthorne, the human race is stagnating and with your technology, we can finally evolve into something greater. So, why fight it? You're going to join us anyway. Just give in."_

A shiver racked my spine, but a pepper-pot slid forward, plunger-like appendage aimed at me threateningly.

"You will assist!"

I forced a smile, hands up in surrender. "All right. What do you want me to do?"

* * *

"Just keep walking," the Doctor whispered to Martha as he and Lazlo snuck into the line of people and pig-men heading for the Dalek laboratory.

Martha let out a sigh of relief, having been worried after she'd gotten caught. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you."

"Yeah, well, you can kiss me later," he muttered, looking at the group in search of a familiar face. "Any sign of Hawthorne?"

Martha frowned at the mention of the other woman before lightening up. They _had_ thought she'd died at a point. There was no need to be so upset about the Doctor's concern for her, even _if_ Martha was jealous.

"No, nothing," she answered before the group was brought into a lab full of Daleks.

"Report," one demanded.

"Dalek Sec is in the final stage of evolution."

"Scan him. Prepare for birth."

"Evolution?" The Doctor frowned, not liking the sound of that.

"What's wrong with old Charlie Boy over there?" Martha asked, nodding to the smoking Dalek.

"Ask them."

Martha gave him a dubious look. "What, me? Don't be daft."

"I don't exactly want to get noticed. Ask them what's going on."

Martha gathered her courage. "Daleks, I demand to be told. What is the Final Experiment? Report!"

"You will bear witness," one answered.

"To what?"

"This is a dawn of a new age."

"What does that mean?"

"We are the only four Daleks in existence, so the species must evolve a life outside the shell. The Children of Skaro must walk again."

_Oh, this just keeps getting worse, doesn't it?_ The Doctor mused as the smoking Dalek suddenly stopped and opened up.

"What is it?" Martha breathed out and a cyclops-octopus hybrid of some sort stepped out, responding.

"I am a human Dalek. I am your future." He turned to the other Daleks. "These humans will become like me. Prepare them for hybridization."

The Doctor snuck away as the pig-men grabbed some of the people.

"Leave me alone!" Martha shouted, struggling. "Don't you dare!"

"Now, hold on a minute. Shouldn't we think about this for a second, Dalek… uh, Sec, was it?"

Martha turned to the person speaking in shock as the Doctor nearly dropped the radio he'd been sonicking.

"Hawthorne?"

Hawthorne turned to Martha with a blink, before waving and smiling.

"Oh, hey, Martha. Nice to see you."

"W-What are you doing here!"

"Later. Bit busy." She waved off, looking back to the human Dalek Sec. "Right, like I was saying, I think we should wait before turning them into… whatever you are."

Dalek Sec frowned. "Why?"

Hawthorne waved a beaker she was holding. "You were like a trial, yeah? Shouldn't we perfect the serum first? Fix the quirks to make it the best it can be before distributing it?"

"Hawthorne, the hell are you doing?" Martha snapped but was ignored as Dalek Sec hummed.

"I see. Yes. You're right. If it is imperfect, then the evolution would be a failure."

Suddenly, music began to play and Dalek Sec grimaced as he tried to find the source.

"What is that sound?"

The Doctor stepped out with the radio, silently grateful for Hawthorne speaking up. She'd given him some much-needed time.

"Ah, well now. That would be me. Hello. Surprise. Boo. Ex cetera," he chirped—Dalek Sec frowning.

"Doctor."

"The enemy of the Daleks," a Dalek declared as another rolled forward.

"Exterminate!"

"Wait!" Dalek Sec commanded, and they did.

"Well then, a new form of Dalek," the Doctor mused, looking him over. "Fascinating and very clever."

"The Cult of Skaro escaped your slaughter," he said, earning a confused look from Hawthorne as they conversed.

"How did you end up in 1930?"

"Emergency temporal shift."

"Oh, that must have roasted up your power cells, huh? Time was, four Daleks could have conquered the world, but instead you're skulking away, hidden in the dark, experimenting. All of which results in you."

Dalek Sec stood straighter. "I am Dalek in human form."

"What does it feel like?" The Doctor questioned, trying to see how much was Dalek and what amount of human was left, if any. "You can talk to me, Dalek Sec. It is Dalek Sec, isn't it? That's your name? You've got a name and a mind of your own. Tell me what you're thinking right now."

"I feel… humanity," he answered, turning away and giving the Doctor the chance to tug Hawthorne behind him.

"Good. That's good," the Doctor said idly, giving Hawthorne a once-over in concern as she smiled and pat his arm in reassurance.

She was fine.

"I feel everything we wanted from mankind," Dalek Sec continued, "which is ambition, hatred, aggression and war. Such a genius for war."

Hawthorne flinched at that, the Doctor squeezing her hand as he frowned at the creation before him.

"No, that's not what humanity means."

"I think it does," Dalek Sec argued. "At heart, this species is so very Dalek."

"Might just be the person he used as a catalyst," Hawthorne muttered under her breath, only heard by the Doctor as he fought back the Dalek's words.

"All right, so what have you achieved then, with this Final Experiment, eh? Nothing! Because I can show you what you're missing with this thing." He pat the radio beside him. "A simple little radio."

"What is the purpose of that device?" A Dalek asked.

"Well, exactly. It plays music. What's the point of that?" The Doctor rambled. "Oh, with music, you can dance to it, sing with it, fall in love to it. Unless you're a Dalek of course. Then it's all just noise."

He sonicked it, causing it to screech and immobilize the Daleks and pig-men.

"Run!"

Everyone ran, rushing back into the sewers and soon, back up into open air. The group hurried to Hooverville and the Doctor tried to get Solomon to understand what sort of danger they were in, but he was convinced he could talk some sense into the Daleks. Common courtesy didn't stand a chance when the attacks began though.

"We need to get out of the park!" Martha shouted above the noise of screams, squeals and gunshots.

"We can't. They're on all sides. They're driving everyone back towards us." The Doctor frowned, before someone grabbed the back of his coat. "Hawthorne?"

She was deathly pale, hands shaking and breath hitching in the threat of another panic attack. The Doctor cursed under his breath, turning around and holding her upper arms to try and keep her attention on him.

"Becky. Becky, look at me. You need to calm down. I can't help these people _and_ you. So, you need to talk to me. What's going on? Becky, what's going on!" He shook her for emphasis and she finally spoke.

"I-It's my f-fault."

"What? No, it's not. How could this be—" He cut himself off, seeing her unfocused gaze and understanding dawned on him.

_Not this. Something similar. She thinks this is something else. Does she… Is this PTSD? What the hell happened to this girl?_ He was out of time though. Everyone had been herded to the center now, and the enemies were on their way.

"Martha, keep her calm," he ordered, pushing Hawthorne slightly towards her. "I don't know what she's reliving, but I can't focus on two troubles at once."

Martha hesitated but after one look at Hawthorne, she nodded—shifting into doctor-mode as she tried to snap the unresponsive woman out of it. It was hard to focus though and even more so when a Dalek joined in shooting up the tents nearby

"The humans will surrender," it ordered as the Doctor angrily stepped forward.

"Leave them alone! They've done nothing to you!"

Solomon pushed past him though, the Doctor trying to get him to stop, but he wouldn't listen as he addressed the Dalek.

"I'm told that I'm addressing the Daleks. Is that right?" He called out to the nearest one. "From what I hear, you're outcasts too."

"Solomon, don't!" The Doctor tried, but he wouldn't listen.

"Doctor, this is my township. You will respect my authority… Just let me try," he declared, looking back to the Dalek. "Daleks, ain't we all the same? Underneath, ain't we all kin?" He tossed his rifle to the ground. "Right. See, I've just discovered this past day, God's universe is a thousand times the size I thought it was. And that scares me."

"Doctor," Martha cut through, making him turn and grimace at the shape Hawthorne was in. "She's trying to say something."

The Doctor glanced briefly at Solomon, before moving to their side—taking Hawthorne's shaking hand. "What? What is it, Becky?"

She was struggling but seemed to at least be more focused on what was going on around here than before.

"I-I caused it."

The Doctor frowned. "Caused what?"

"W-World War T-T-Three."

Martha furrowed her brows in confusion. "What? Doctor, that hasn't even happened. What is she talking about?"

"I… I'm not sure," he admitted. "Becky, what do you mean?"

She looked at him with wide, panicked eyes. "I-It was my fault. All that s-screaming, fighting. If I hadn't… G-God, i-if I hadn't m-made it, then… S-So many deaths. I-It's all my fault," she cried, a hand wrapped tightly around the fabric of her shirt and the other running through her hair.

The trio jumped then, a blast behind them startling them and preventing them from questioning Hawthorne, as Solomon cried out in pain and collapsed—exterminated by the Dalek floating above. Anger filled the Doctor and he jumped to his feet and faced the Dalek, full of fury for what he'd just been witness to.

"All right, so it's my turn! Then kill me! Kill me if it'll stop you attacking these people!" He shouted, the Dalek shifting above him

"I will be the destroyer of our greatest enemy."

"Then do it! Do it! Just do it! Do it!" he yelled, thumping his chest, but the Dalek stopped—seemingly speaking to itself.

"I do not understand. It is the Doctor… The urge to kill is too strong…. I… obey."

"What's going on?" The Doctor questioned.

"You will follow."

"No! You can't go!" Martha shouted.

"I've got to. The Daleks just changed their minds. Daleks _never_ change their minds."

"But what about us?"

The Doctor opened his mouth, but the Dalek cut in.

"Only the Doctor and the scientist are needed."

"W-What?" The Doctor breathed out, glancing at the only scientist it could have possibly meant: Hawthorne. "No… No! What do you need her for!"

"You will both come, and only then will the others be spared."

He grit his teeth as Martha stepped forward.

"Then, I'm coming with you."

"Martha, stay here. Do what you do best. People are hurt. You can help them. Let me go. Oh, and can I just say, thank you very much." He took her hand briefly, winked, then grabbed Hawthorne's—lightly coaxing the shell-shocked woman along with him. "It's all right. You're okay, Becky," he soothed her, feeling her hand still quaking in his. "You're with me. You're not back there. I promise."

_Wherever "there" is, _he mused, but kept the nagging questions at bay for a better time. Right now, he was more focused on quelling his anger towards the Daleks, so he could finish the Time War once and for all. The moment he laid eyes on Dalek Sec, however, all restraint went out the window.

"Those people were defenseless!" He snapped. "You only wanted me, but no, that wasn't enough for you. You had to start killing, because that's the only thing a Dalek's good for."

"The deaths were wrong," Dalek Sec admitted, stopping the Doctor's rampage instantly.

"I'm sorry?"

"That man, their leader, Solomon. He showed courage."

The Doctor's brows furrowed. "And that's good?"

"That's excellent."

_Something's changed._ "Is it me or are you just becoming a little bit more human?"

"You are the last of your kind, and now I am the first of mine."

"What do you want us for?"

"We tried everything to survive when we found ourselves stranded in this ignorant age. First, we tried growing new Dalek embryos, but their flesh was too weak."

"Yeah, I found one of your experiments. Just left to die out there in the dark."

Hawthorne's hand clenched a little tighter, drawing a small glance from the Doctor, who was glad she seemed calmer.

"It forced us to conclude what is the greatest resource of this planet. Its people," Dalek Sec went on, flipping a switch and lowering a body from the hundreds hovering above them on metal tables. "We stole them. We stole human beings for our purpose. Look inside."

The Doctor pulled back the sheet covering the man.

"This is the true extent of the Final Experiment."

"Is he dead?" The Doctor asked, making sure Hawthorne wasn't upset by the possible corpse, but she just listened quietly.

"Near death, with his mind wiped, ready to be filled with new ideas."

"Dalek ideas," he concluded, not pleased by the idea.

"The Human Dalek race."

The Doctor looked up at the other tables above them. "All of these people… How many?"

"We have caverns beyond this storing more than a thousand."

"Is there any way to restore them? Make them human again?" He asked hopefully, but Dalek Sec shook his head.

"Everything they were has been lost."

"So, they're like shells. You've got empty human beings ready to be converted. That's going to take a hell of a lot of power. This planet hasn't even split the atom yet. How're you going to do it?"

Dalek Sec turned towards Hawthorne, surprisingly. "Your associate is the one who came up with the answer to that, which is why we required her again. Her scientific knowledge is more advanced than those we have dealt with thus far. Even with unfamiliar technology, she has proven useful, which is why we postponed her conversation in order to assist us."

The Doctor was surprised Hawthorne had managed to convince them to do that, and also glad that she'd handled it so well. He would have hated to have found her on one of those slabs, dead once more.

"So, you've taken over the Empire State Building above us, for what?" He asked.

"I am the genetic template. My altered DNA was to be administered to each human body. A strong enough blast of gamma radiation can splice the Dalek and human genetic codes and waken each body from its sleep."

"Gamma radiation?"

"The sun," Hawthorne spoke up, clearing her throat. "There's a large solar flare that will hit the Empire State Building."

"Waking an army," the Doctor finished, Hawthorne flinching. "So, what do you need us for?"

"Your genius," Dalek Sec answered simply. "Consider a pure Dalek, intelligent but emotionless."

"Removing the emotions makes you stronger. That's what your creator thought, all those years ago."

"He was wrong," Dalek Sec said, stunning the Doctor once more.

"He was what?"

"It makes us lesser than our enemies. We must return to the flesh, and also the heart."

"But you wouldn't be the supreme beings anymore."

"And that is good."

"That is incorrect!" A Dalek screeched, making Hawthorne jump and the Doctor tuck her behind him.

"Daleks are supreme!" Another answered.

"No, not anymore."

"But that is our purpose."

"Then our purpose is wrong. Where has our quest for supremacy led us? To this. Hiding in the sewers on a primitive world, just four of us left. If we do not change now then we deserve extinction," Dalek Sec declared, trying to make them understand as the Doctor cut in.

"So you want to change everything that makes a Dalek a Dalek."

"If you can help me. Your knowledge of genetic engineering is even greater than ours. The new race must be ready by the time the solar flare erupts."

"He wants to change the gene sequence," Hawthorne explained at the Doctor's confusion. "Make it more human."

"Hold on a minute. There's no way this lot are going to let you do it."

"Daleks must follow orders," a Dalek declared.

"Dalek Sec commands, we obey."

The Doctor didn't believe it but knew there was a chance here.

"If you don't help me, nothing will change," Dalek Sec finished.

"There's no room on Earth for another race of people."

"You have your Tardis. Take us across the stars. Find us a new home and allow the new Daleks to start again."

"When's that solar flare?"

"Eleven minutes."

"Right then. Better get to work."

* * *

"We can't do chromosomal grafting," I muttered, drawing their attention to me as we tried to work out a way to do this. "It's too unstable. Is there a way to force the sequence straight to the cortex?"

The Doctor nodded. "It's the only other way. We need to split the genome."

"We need more chromatin solution," Dalek Sec commanded.

"The pig slaves have it," a Dalek responded, and I passed a hand through my hair tiredly.

_This is like before, except now… Now, I have more of a part to play. I'm hoping the Doctor has a plan. I don't want to be the start of another world's ending._ I pushed past the thought, nearly jumping out of my skin when the Doctor's hand brushed mine.

"You all right?"

I nodded, swallowing thickly as he eyed me.

"We kind of lost you before… Do you want to talk about it later?"

I didn't. I didn't want him to know what I'd done, the deaths I caused because of my selfishness. Yet… a part of me did. My slip-up before about WWIII was proof of that. I was internally _screaming_ for help but was terrified of the consequences.

"M-Maybe. I… I'm not sure yet."

He nodded. "Whenever you're ready, I'll listen. Don't force yourself."

"The line feeds are ready," a Dalek announced, ending our short conversation.

"Then, it's all system's go."

"The solar flare is imminent," Dalek Sec said proudly. "The radiation will reach Earth in a matter of minutes."

"We'll be ready for it," the Doctor mused, filling a syringe as I cracked a smile.

"Feels a bit. Dr. Frankenstein to me."

The Doctor grinned at that, then injected the serum. "That compound will allow the gene bonds to reconfigure in a brand-new pattern. Power up!"

Switches were thrown as Dalek Sec called out more orders.

"Start the line feeds."

"There goes the gene solution," the Doctor hummed, watching the liquid bubble up to the corpses above us.

"The life blood."

Suddenly, a loud alarm went off, startling us.

"What's that?" The Doctor questioned.

"What's happening? Is there a malfunction?" Dalek Sec asked the Daleks who remained silent as I hurried over to check the nearby display. "Answer me!"

"Oh, no," I breathed out, eyes scanning the information quickly. "The gene feeds are changing! There's no human left! It's all Dalek!"

"Impossible. They cannot disobey orders," Dalek Sec claimed, but a Dalek rolled towards me as the Doctor pulled me away from it and the controls.

"The Doctor and human will step away from the controls."

"Stop! You will not fire!" Dalek Sec commanded as a different Dalek argued with him.

"He is an enemy of the Daleks."

"And so are you."

Their whisk-like appendages were aimed at him now.

"I am your commander. I am Dalek Sec!"

"You have lost your authority."

"You are no longer a Dalek."

"Pig slaves, restrain Dalek Sec, the Doctor and the human."

A pig-slave grabbed me, tugging me out of the Doctor's hands as he was grabbed by another. I forced myself to try and stay calm despite the vice-like grip on my forearm.

"_Let go! Let go! You're hurting me! M-Mum, you're hurting me!"_

Another alarm pulled me out of the memory and I took a deep breath, noticing the Doctor talking with the pig slave behind him. Except, this one looked more human than the others. The Doctor caught my gaze and gestured to a lift behind us that had just opened. _Our chance._ I stomped my heel down on the foot of the pig slave holding me, earning a squeal as its grip loosened.

"The Doctor is escaping! Stop him! Stop him!" A Dalek screeched, and I yanked my arm from the pig slave, ignoring the sting of its jaws just skimming my arm as I made a run for the lift—the doors closing just in time.

"We've only got minutes before the gamma radiation reaches the Earth," The Doctor said quickly while myself and the… human pig (?) caught our breaths. "We need to get to the top of the building. Laszlo, what's wrong?"

Lazlo was breathing harder than I was and had shifted to lean against the side of the lift. "Out of breath. It's nothing." He lied, sweat slipping down his face. "We've escaped them, Doctor. That's all that matters."

The Doctor turned to me then, beaming. "And you! That was brilliant, what you did. Convincing the Daleks to hang on to you, and don't think I missed the tampering to the gene feed you started. Where'd you learn genetic manipulation?"

I flushed, embarrassed. "I-I'm a scientist. While my main focus is astrophysics, I-I dabbled. People tend to hire me if I'm not just a loon babbling on about parallel universes. I, um, was actually involved in a few projects to splice genetic sequences in order to create hybrids of animals for better productivity, and to try and come up with a way to make artificial embryos of extinct and endangered species."

The Doctor's grin grew wider as I cracked a smile and shuffled uncertainly, until he pulled me into a hug—making me yelp. He abruptly pulled away, catching sight of the bleeding wound on my arm.

"Why didn't you say you were hurt?" He questioned, starting to remove his necktie.

I looked at the wound as well. "I, um, hadn't really noticed."

"Bit hard not to, I'd think," he said, wrapping his tie around the wound as a make-shift bandage. "Just how high is your pain tolerance?"

I grimaced at that, knowing that I had slowly grown accustomed to pain, which wasn't exactly a good thing.

"H-Higher than most…" I murmured, hoping he hadn't heard me, but his frown said otherwise.

Thankfully though, he was willing to drop it and gestured to Lazlo.

"Well, introductions then! Hawthorne, this is Lazlo, friend of Tallulah's—who Martha and I met while you were busy playing scientist. Lazlo, this is my good companion and friend Rebecca Hawthorne."

"Hello." I smiled as he returned the gesture. "Becky, Beck or Hawthorne is fine."

"Beck?" The Doctor questioned, and I nodded.

"Solomon thought I was male and just never bothered to pick a different nickname even after I told him I wasn't. Grew used to it and I actually like it, so no harm done."

The Doctor chuckled. "Look at you. So, chipper today, aren't you?"

He ruffled my hair as the lift reached the top floor and we stepped out to find Martha and a blonde woman—Tallulah—greeting us.

"Doctor! Hawthorne!"

"First floor, perfumery," the Doctor chirped, Tallulah hugging Lazlo.

Martha grabbed me then and I sort of held my hands up, uncertain how to react to the gesture. She released me though, looking pleased with herself over something.

"We've worked it out. We know what they've done. There's Dalekanium on the mast. And it's good to see you too, by the way."

"Oh, come here."

The Doctor hugged her, spinning her around only for the lift to ding and close its doors to head back down.

"No, no, no!" He exclaimed, running to the doors, but it was too late. "See? Never waste time with a hug. Deadlock seal. I can't stop it."

_Deadlock?_

"Where's it going?"

"Right down to the Daleks. And they're not going to leave us alone up here. What's the time?"

"We've got six minutes," I informed him, earning a raised brow for knowing without a watch. "Sorry. I have a good internal clock."

"All right. Six minutes to go. I've got to remove the Dalekanium before the gamma radiation hits."

"Gammon radiation?" Tallulah asked. "What the heck is that?"

She was ignored as we moved to an open area to see how far we were from the top.

"Oh, that's high. That's very… Blimey, that's high."

"I can go," I offered, earning stunned looks from both him and Marth. "Heights don't bother me in the slightest."

"No," the Doctor denied immediately, brows furrowed in an almost-glare. "Absolutely not. We've lost you once and I'm not going to risk that again. I'm going. _Just_ me."

"We won't just stand here and watch you," Martha argued.

"No, you're going to have your hands full anyway," he said, gesturing to the lift. "I'm sorry, Martha, Hawthorne. But you've got to fight."

He went up the side of the building, leaving us there as the lift came steadily closer. _Think. Gotta think. I know self-defense. I had to, but these aren't classmates or thugs on the street or even my mother. These are boar-human hybrids. Not even pigs. They're too wild for that, driven by instinct. Self-defense will do little good. Besides, I'm a thinker, not a fighter. We need a better way._ Thunder rumbled behind me and it clicked.

"Oh…"

"Hawthorne, stop standing there! They're nearly here!" Martha called, but I shook my head, waving my hands.

"No! No! Don't do that. Let's do something clever!" I grinned, taking the metal pipe she had and setting it on a chair as I grabbed more metal.

"What's wrong with her?" Tallulah questioned dubiously. "Has she lost it?"

"Quite the opposite, in fact," I answered. "I thought of something cleverer than fighting. Something with less effort. Let's let nature do the work!"

Martha's brows furrowed, and she opened her mouth just as another rumble echoed through the air, making it click in her mind.

"Oh… lightning!"

I snapped my fingers, pointing at her as she clued Tallulah in and began to help. I winced at a brief headache of Martha coming up with the idea and Frank being here to join us but shook the vision off as we finished up with our little lightning rod. The doors to the lift opened and it barely managed to let out a soft "ding" before lightning struck and the pig slaves inside fell to the ground, dead.

"You did it," Tallulah breathed out as we hesitantly approached the charred smoking creatures.

I grimaced at the sight, turning away and closing my eyes as those memories started to push through once more.

_Fire, screams._

_So many dead, so many dying._

_It's all my fault._

_**I**__ did this._

"What about the Doctor?" Martha asked and upon seeing no one coming back down, I offered to go up.

Martha wanted to go as well, but we both feared the ladder may not be able to hold the weight of the both of us after the beating it took in the storm. That, and she was slightly more concerned about falling to her death than I was. I'd never been bothered by heights, even when younger but this was a different kind of height. This wasn't strapped down in a seat like a roller coaster, nor was it looking out the window of a skyscraper. This was climbing up an unsteady ladder with nothing but my own strength keeping me attached to the building. And with the winds still wildly tugging at my clothes, their strength having grown from the storm. I felt that I _should_ have been scared about falling to my death, yet I wasn't.

I felt an eerie sort of calm as I climbed, scooping up the Doctor's sonic screwdriver half-way up as the wind threatened to pluck me off the ladder. It was… odd. Was it because I had died before and lived again? Death appeared to have no hold on me, so was I being cocky by not caring about dying when it hovered so close? Perhaps, and that bothered me more than dying. Suicidal tendencies were nothing new to me, but I always managed to make myself care about living again. There was always something to drive me forward and I clung to that every day, but something had changed, and it wasn't my new-found immortality.

I reached the top to see the Doctor lying at the base of the mast, but I was still lost in my thoughts. _What drove me before? What kept me going?_

_A young woman stumbled into a darkened home, bruised, beaten, sluggish as she dropped her bag and tumbled to her knees._

_**Why?**__ She wondered, staring blankly at the empty apartment building, alcohol muddling her mind. __**Why is it never enough? Why do I bother?**__ She looked at the gleaming blades in the kitchen, pushing herself to her feet and aiming for release._

I moved to the Doctor, kneeling beside him and checking his pulse—brows furrowed at the double "ba-dump" under my fingers.

"_Just wait, Mr. Smith! We'll succeed this time for sure!"_

_The little girl's voice stopped the blade before it could pierce deeper and the young woman cracked a broken smile.__** Time machine. I forgot. I have to finish that time machine.**__ She dropped the blade in the sink and moved to the bathroom, scooping up the rabbit stuffed animal that had tumbled to the floor from her bag._

"_We've got work to do and then they'll see, right, Mr. Smith?"_

"Doctor?" I questioned, lightly nudging him, forcing my eyes to look away from the white line on the underside of my right wrist. _Ah, that's right. The time machine kept me going. I wanted to just travel and get away. Meet people in the past and see what they thought of me, because surely, I'd find someone who cared but… I made it… Look what it did. That's what changed. The one thing keeping me going was tainted and now… what's left? Is that why? I'm not afraid to fall to my death because… there's nothing else keeping me going?_

"Oh, my head," the Doctor groaned, sitting up and soon frowning. "Hey, what is it? What's wrong?"

I didn't know how he noticed, but I knew there wasn't time to discuss things now. So, I did what I do best. I cracked a smile, held up his sonic and dodged the question.

"I think you dropped this."

His expression shifted, and I knew he suspected what I was doing, but he let it go like he always did ever since we'd met. _But he won't keep doing it for long._

"Well, glad to see you made it out all right," he hummed, eyeing me in a way that said we'd discuss things later.

"So, you did. Though there's still Dalekanium on the mast, I see. Hope you've got a clever back-up plan."

He grinned, ruffling my hair as he made for the ladder. "I might, but we'd best head back down."

"All right," I hummed, heading after him. "Though I'm curious… what's Dalekanium?"

"Ooh, I get the feeling you're asking for a lot more than the simple answer of 'it's metal.'"

I chuckled. _He already knows me so well. Perhaps… Perhaps he could give me a new reason to move forward…_

* * *

Something was up with Hawthorne, the Doctor knew. She'd dodged his question earlier, but he hadn't missed the dazed, depressed look on her face when she'd found him. Problem was, there was no time to talk with the Daleks around. _Yet another thing to discuss with her back on the Tardis. That list keeps getting bigger too. Just who are you, Becky?_ He tucked the questions to the back of his mind as the group entered the theatre Tallulah had lead them to.

"This should do it. Here we go."

"There ain't nothing more creepy than a theatre in the dark," Tallulah murmured. "Listen, Doctor, I know you got a thing for show tunes, but there's a time and a place, huh?"

Lazlo abruptly sat down, drawing her attention.

"Lazlo, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just so hot."

"But it's freezing in here. Doctor, what's happening to him?"

The Doctor knew that his DNA was unstable, but Lazlo still had some time. The Daleks didn't.

"Not now, Tallulah. Sorry," he said, adjusting his sonic as Hawthorne poked her head around his shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

"If the Dalek's are going to war—" He didn't miss her flinch. "—they'll want to find their number one enemy. I'm just telling them where I am." He lifted his sonic to send out the signal, then turned to the group. "You need to go."

"No way," Martha argued.

"I'm telling you to go. Go back to Hooverville. Hawthorne; you can lead them back."

Hawthorne shook her head and he glared.

"That's an order."

She stiffened, shrinking slightly into herself which confused him, but Martha stepped in.

"Who are you then? Some sort of Dalek?"

The words hurt, though he didn't have time to dwell on it before the doors burst open and people marched in.

"Doctor! Oh, my God!" Tallulah yelped. "Well, I guess that's them then, huh?"

"Humans with Dalek DNA?" Martha questioned cautiously.

"It's all right. It's all right," The Doctor calmed them, eyeing the people. "Just stay calm. Don't antagonize them."

"But what of the Dalek masters?" Lazlo asked, "Where are they?"

As if on cue, two Daleks burst onto the stage with Dalek Sec crawling on the floor in chains before them.

"The Doctor will stand before the Daleks," one ordered, and the Doctor did as they said. "You will die, Doctor. It is the beginning of a new age."

"Planet Earth will become New Skaro."

"Oh, and what a world," the Doctor drawled. "With anything just the slightest bit different ground into the dirt. That's Dalek Sec." He pointed out. "Don't you remember? The cleverest Dalek ever and look what you've done to him. Is that your new Empire, hm? Is that the foundation for a whole new civilization?"

Dalek Sec spoke up then. "My Daleks, just understand this. If you chose death and destruction, then death and destruction will choose you."

"Incorrect. We will always survive," a Dalek argued.

"Now, we will destroy our greatest enemy, the Doctor."

"But he can help you."

"The Doctor must die."

"No, I beg you, don't!"

"Exterminate!"

"No!"

Dalek Sec jumped between the two, being vaporized instantly as the Doctor glared at the Daleks.

"Your own leader. The only creature who might have led you out of the darkness and you destroyed him." He looked to the hybrids in the room. "Do you see what they did? Huh? You see what a Dalek really is? If I'm going to die, let's give the new boys a shot. What do you think, eh? The Dalek humans. Their first blood. Go on, baptize them."

Hawthorne looked at the group hesitantly, uncertain if the Doctor had a plan or if he was offering himself like before.

"Dalek humans, take aim," a Dalek commanded, and they obeyed.

"What are you waiting for? Give the command!" The Doctor egged them on as Hawthorne scrambled over the seats to reach him.

"Exterminate!"

The Doctor stiffened as Hawthorne hurried in front of him, but nothing happened.

"Exterminate!" A Dalek said again, but still, nothing happened.

"Obey. Dalek humans will obey. You will obey. Exterminate!"

"Why?" One of the hybrids questioned, making Hawthorne tilt her head curiously as a Dalek responded.

"Daleks do not question orders."

"But why?"

"You will stop this!"

"But why?"

"You must not question!"

"But you are not our master and we… we are not Daleks."

"No, you're not," the Doctor agreed, tugging Hawthorne beside him with a mental note on her previous actions. "And you never will be. Sorry, I got in the way of the lightning strike. Time Lord DNA got all mixed up. Just that little bit of freedom."

"If they will not obey, then they must die." The Dalek declared, shooting one of the hybrids and starting a firefight.

"Get down!"

* * *

I wasn't sure what was going on. I… I couldn't feel anything. One minute, I was beside the Doctor; the next, there was gun shots and cries of pain. I thought it was another panic attack. It was hard to breathe, hard to focus. I thought it was sweat making my clothes stick to my skin, but when I looked down, a dark stain was spreading along my shirt. _I… I was hit? When? How? The Doctor, he… he pulled me down, so when—_

"…_then they must die."_

_A shot fired at the hybrid._

_The man fell back, finger pulling trigger._

"_Get down!"_

_The Doctor wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me backward._

_More shots rang out, but the initial slipped under the radar, unnoticed as it hit my side._

Blood pumped loudly in my ears, increasing the ever-growing stain as the commotion died down and guns stopped shooting.

"…It's all right. You did it. You're fine," the Doctor soothed the hybrids as I fought to call out to him.

"D-Doc…"

A screech and more screams. The hybrids collapsed on the ground, dead.

"No! They can't! They can't! They can't! They can't!" He shouted.

"What happened? What was that?" Martha asked.

"They killed them rather than let them live. An entire species. Genocide," he snapped bitterly, as I slowly got to my feet somehow.

"Only two of the Daleks have been destroyed," Lazlo said. "One of the Dalek masters must still be alive."

"Oh, yes. In the whole universe, just one," the Doctor bit out, eyes on the corpses at his feet.

"D-Doctor," I said, feeling as though I whispered but, in the silence, he heard me and turned.

"Hawthorne, what—" He stopped, eyes widening as he took in the red of my shirt and pale, scared face. "No…"

I faltered, strength fading fast, but he caught me—lying me on the ground and putting pressure on the wound I could now barely feel.

"No. No, no, no, no, no. You can't!" He commanded voice tight as the others hurried over. "We just… We just got you back. How? How does this keep happening?"

I was tired, so very tired. I knew I shouldn't sleep. The Doctor was calling to me. I didn't want to leave him, not again, but my eyes slid closed despite my silent protests. Everything stopped. I grew cold. I feared the darkness once more, but as quickly as I was thrown in, it spat me back out.

I sucked in a breath as my lungs returned to being functional and my heart pounded in my chest. I sat up, placing a hand to where my wound had been, but it was gone. Nothing remained except an ache. I looked around, barely recognizing the light blue room I was in. The technology was wrong, and I was alone. I pushed myself from the bed, wobbling slightly on unsteady legs and making for the door. _Where am I? I died again, but I keep coming back. Have I teleported? How? Is… Is the Doctor still around? Is this the med bay?_

I stepped out into the hallway where a hum greeted me, sounding very much like the Tardis. My hopes soared, and I picked up my pace, faltering like a newborn foal as I tried to find the console room. I found it on the next turn and nearly tumbled down the stairs as I spotted the Doctor and Martha.

"D-Doctor!" I called out, voice slightly hoarse from…_ what? Being dead?_

His head snapped up, eyes wide in shock as Martha did the same.

"H-How…" She breathed out as the Doctor took a step forward.

"But you were… I took your pulse. I was there. I carried your _body_." His eyes turned dark and he stormed forward.

There was something terrifying about how he was looking at me and I took a step back as he approached. He grabbed my wrist with a snarl, making me shrink away from the storm in his gaze.

"Who are you? _What_ are you? A trick? You can't fool me. Not like this. Who are you!"

I flinched back, trying to pull my arm from the vice grip he had on it.

"I-It's me! Hawthorne!"

"Liar! Hawthorne's _dead_!" He shouted. "So, you better stop this before _I_ end this."

"B-But it's me! I-I swear!" I tried, feeling my throat constrict. "I-I-I don't know how, b-but I died a-and ended up in t-that room. L-Like before, with the witches!"

"Doctor, maybe—" Martha was cut off by him snapping at her.

"No. It's impossible. I'm not going to fall for some… some Dalek trick!"

"I-I'm not a trick! You have to believe me!" I shouted, but he wasn't listening as he slammed my back against the wall.

"Stop lying!"

Brown eyes changed to dark green and short brown hair became curly blonde waves as my panic grew.

"_Stop lying! Don't lie to me, Rebecca!"_

"_B-But it's true!"_

"_No! No, it's not!"_

"_Mom! Mo—"_

"_Don't call me that! Don't you ever call me that! You should have never been born!"_

I sank to the ground, tears trailing down my face and head tucked between my knees as the Doctor tried to pull me back up.

"Get up!"

"_Stand up! You useless child!"_

"Get up!"

"_Why can't you just be normal! You've torn this family apart! This is all __**your fault**_

"I'm sorry. It's my fault. You're right. I'm sorry. I-I'm a liar. E-Everything… i-i-is m-my… _fault_."

I couldn't breathe. Her hands were wrapped around my throat, choking off my air supply.

"S-Stop… C-Can't… breathe. L-Let go… Mother, I-I can't…"

Something brushed my temples and I flinched, expecting pain, but only felt warmth. Fuzzy darkness pressed down, dulling pain, slowing breaths, silencing the world and leaving a small whisper behind.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

The Doctor sat, waiting fearfully for when she would wake up. He'd made a mistake. She was… Hawthorne was an impossible thing. She was like Jack, almost, expect he couldn't _feel_ it with her. He couldn't explain it. He doubted anyone could, yet here she was. Alive.

The first time, he expected a fluke. Perhaps, he'd imagined it—her dying by a witch. It hadn't made sense, but his mind refused to feel anything but relief at seeing her alive. She had vanished, after all. No body meant hope. This time, however, he clung to the body like a lifeline. He took her pulse, again and again, every chance he could. So, it was odd that the moment he'd left her in the med bay—the moment he accepted her death—she strolled into the console room perfectly fine.

_It's a trick_, his mind had supplied him at the time. The last remaining Dalek did this. An enemy did this. It was a lie. It _had_ to be. He demanded answers. He didn't have any, but surely, _she_ did. He lost control, angry after the last adventure and for whoever was attempting to use his most recent loss against him. He didn't think that it might be possible. That perhaps the person he was accosting was actually just Hawthorne back from the dead. A sane man might have run scans, but in that moment, he had lost his sanity to anger and rage. He wasn't thinking, and because of that, he had hurt a dear friend.

_She was abused._ He had learned in their conflict. _An abusive or neglecting mother. One that I… that I reminded her of._ He passed a hand through his hair tiredly. _Not only that but possible suicidal tendencies. She jumped in front of me before. Not a hint of hesitation. She… She is burying herself in self-blame. For multiple things. Family, a… __**war**__, though I'm curious what she meant about it being the third world war, if what she said was true, then…_

He pushed the thought aside, looking at the sleeping woman in front of him and suddenly seeing her. _Actually, _seeing her. The dark circles under her eyes noting lack of sleep. The paleness of her skin showing the lack of sunlight. Yellow fingernails—a telling sign of nicotine from smoking, though her clothes remained remarkably clean of the smell. A hint of white skin just above her left brow—a scar from something and hardly noticeable unless one was looking. He took her hand, running his thumb over the back of it before turning it over the check for calluses, only to freeze.

A pale white line slashed across the veins of her wrist, confirming one of the Doctor's fears. He brushed a thumb over it, questioning what could have pushed someone who appeared so cheerful to that breaking point. Though, he knew how false her smiles were at times and how much baggage she had hidden away. He had thought something was wrong the moment he'd spoken with her at the hospital, but he hadn't expected this. And now, he'd gone and brought it to the surface.

She stirred, and he let her hand go, hearts pounding and mind racing as he scrambled to figure out what he was going to say to apologize. He'd been so concerned over her past that he hadn't thought up a way to say sorry. Her eyes blinked open and as her vision focused, she recognized the room and paled even further. She spotted him then and immediately tried to shift away before he spoke.

"Ah, wait! I… I'm sorry," he said, wincing and trying to find more to say as silence dragged on between them. "I-I mean… well… you were dead and… um, with the last adventure, I was sort of… not in the right frame of mind. I thought… well, I thought someone was using your death to get back at me, so I sort of…" He cleared his throat, looking anywhere except at her as he rubbed the back of his neck. "…lost my temper. I… I really am sorry. I'll make it up to you. Anything you want, name it."

Hawthorne said nothing, and he fidgeted. _Not good? It was a little thrown together, but I thought it was all right._

"I…" She cleared her throat, looking away from him as well, as she tried to come up with something to say. "I-It's… okay. I… I don't exactly understand w-what's happening either, but…"

The Doctor spotted her shaking hands as she clenched and unclenched them.

"I-I… overreacted, so…" She cleared her throat again, unsure of where to go from there, so the Doctor stepped in.

"If anyone overreacted, it would be me," he argued, not liking how she was blaming herself even now. "I… I made you relive something you were probably trying to forget and… that was wrong of me. So, don't take this on yourself."

She still wouldn't look at him, so he placed his hand over hers—ignoring how she flinched at his touch.

"Hawthorne."

She finally turned, looking so unsure of everything as opposed to her previously confident self.

"Please don't blame yourself. Not for this."

She hesitated, but slowly nodded, making the Doctor relax with a soft sigh.

"Good. Good, right… I… What you said earlier… I know it might be a bit forward of me to ask, but… your mother…"

A flinch.

"I take it she wasn't… kind."

She returned to wringing her hands and he waved his about.

"You don't have to tell me. Really. I just thought—"

"She was…" Hawthorne paused, trying to find the right words. "…overwhelmed. She was forced to stop working a job she loved and… I wasn't exactly _normal_, so the school often called for… various things. She did what she could, but… I often got in the way of things."

"And your father?"

"Worked," she answered simply, though her expression remained downtrodden. "He made suggestions. Home school, therapy… He couldn't do it though, so she had to and… it never turned out well. Then, they divorced and… it went downhill from there. She… S-She didn't know what to do with me. I tried not to make trouble, but… i-it was never enough."

"Hawthorne did she…" The Doctor hesitated. "Did she ever hurt you? _Physically_ hurt you?"

She opened her mouth, winced, then closed it—struggling to answer. _Her mother conditioned her to say nothing, to choose all of her words carefully._

"It's okay. You can tell me. She's not here, so there's nothing to worry about."

"Y-Yes," she finally said, lowering her head. "Yes, s-she did. N-Not… Not often, but… she was struggling. It was hard a-and—"

"That's no excuse," he cut her off, hating how her own mother had abused her and yet she _still_ tried to make up excuses for the woman.

"No… N-No, she was right," Hawthorne argued, quivering slightly. "I-It was my fault. I-If I had just b-been normal, pretended to _be_ normal—"

"Hawthorne, that's not—"

"They could have been happy. They _were_ happy. If I wasn't there if I hadn't been born, then they could have been happy," she rambled, edging into a panic attack as her mind seemed to drift back into those painful memories of her childhood. "S-She didn't have to try and do that. She shouldn't have let go before I… I-I was going t-to build it. I told her I-I would. I promised Mr. Smith. I-I was going t-t-to build the time machine a-and disappear, s-so they c-could be happy."

The Doctor stared in shock and pity as she brought her hands to her head, too stunned at her words to move.

"W-Why did it have to go so wrong? All those deaths, t-the war… All of it w-was _my fault._ So many people… S-So many."

"E-Enough," the Doctor said, finally getting his voice back, but she didn't seem to hear him.

"I-I won't… I c-can't tell you… It all f-fell apart because I-I told you."

"_Becky!_" He pulled her to his chest, holding her shaking body close. "Please. Please stop. It's okay. I promise. Everything's all right now. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

It took a while for her to calm down, but the Doctor was eventually able to let her go without fear of her breaking down again. He'd pushed too hard for answers. Pushed too hard against someone who was barely keeping herself together in the first place. All of her panic attacks. The way her mind falls, _tumbles_, into old painful memories showed just how much she struggled to keep herself together. _And she's been like this for __**years**__. Even as a child… It must have been so hard._

"So… a time machine?" he blurted out, unable to help it; though he cracked a smile as Hawthorne's face and ears turned bright red in embarrassment.

"I-I thought getting away would help, but also… I wanted to go back and d-do records. See what history books got wrong."

He eyed her. "You _did _mention that you weren't interested in the future."

She nodded. "It just never interested me. No one should know how they're going to end up and I'd rather not be disappointed if it wasn't… a happy future. And… well…" She fidgeted awkwardly. "I-I'd rather make my own future."

The Doctor grinned, pleasantly surprised again by the companion he'd picked up. "So, did you ever make it?"

She nodded excitedly with her old smile returning. "I did! It was just a garden shed, mind you, but I did it and it worked! I tested it with a miniature prototype and cameras first, because I wasn't sure the shielding would hold, but—"

"Hold on, hold on!" He slowed her down with a raised brow. "Just how advanced _was_ your technology?"

"Better than this universe. 2006 on Earth here is the dark ages. We had hover-crafts, AIs and supercomputers capable of demanding equal rights at that point. A time machine was still seen as impossible, but I finally managed." Her smile fell then, worrying the Doctor. "But… I was being watched. The moment I completed it…" She trailed off and the Doctor eyed her cautiously.

"Hawthorne?"

"I shouldn't have made it," she murmured. "We weren't ready. Not for that."

She dragged a hand down her tired face, taking a deep breath and letting it out with a long sigh.

"What happened?" He asked, but she shook her head.

"I can't. I-I really can't."

He wanted to know but willingly backed down. He'd done enough damage already. Hawthorne was hanging on by a thin string and… well, he didn't want to see her crumble again.

"Well, I was just about to take Martha home," he announced, standing and pointing his thumb over his shoulder. "So long as you stop throwing yourself into deadly situations, would you like to come?"

She hesitated, but soon nodded, pushing off the bed covers and heading after him only to pause. "Could I… possibly shower first?" She asked, lifting her dirty, tattered shirt up for an explanation. "I-I've been homeless for a while, so…"

"Oh! No, go ahead. The bathroom is back that way, under the bins, second left, third right, and a half step down," he chirped, earning a curious blink at his directions. "The Tardis will probably drop off something for you to wear when you're finished, otherwise the wardrobe is down that hall, four steps up, past the macaroon dispenser, first door on the right. You get all that?"

She went to answer, but he cut her off.

"Or, well, if not just ask and I'm sure the Tardis will—"

"I remember," she interjected, smiling a bit. "Under the bins, second left, third right, and a half step down. Wardrobe is down the hall, four steps up, past the macaroon dispenser, first door on the right."

The Doctor blinked, then smirked. "You're good."

"My _memory_ is good," she corrected with a slight twitch of her lips. "I'll meet you in the… console room?"

He nodded, reassuring her that "console room" was what it was called (as opposed to "ship deck" or something equally as ridiculous). It was only after they split up that the Doctor remembered something.

"Oh… I forgot to give her directions to the console room." He glanced back, debating on going after her for a moment, before shaking his head. "Nah, she'll figure it out."

* * *

I did, in fact, figure it out after a long shower in the first hot water I'd felt for months. I appreciated the clothing the ship picked out, removing the need for a trip to the wardrobe that suddenly made me even more curious to see it. _And just how big is this ship to require such complicated directions and seemingly never-ending halls._ I pushed the thought aside as I trailed after the lights the ship was using to direct me to the console room—picking lightly at the edge of my black coat as the quiet tapping of my boots echoed in the empty hallway.

I soon reached the console room and the Doctor seemed to sense my arrival as he turned around and gave me a once-over. One that felt different from how people _usually_ looked me over. I felt as though he was… _approving_ of what I was wearing before he grinned.

"Better?"

I nodded, cracking a smile myself. "Much."

He sent the ship off and I held a nearby railing, looking up at the wheezing center column in as much awe as when we first traveled. I missed the Doctor's eyes on me as he pulled the ship to a stop though.

"There we go. Perfect landing. Which isn't easy in such a tight spot," he hummed proudly.

"You should be used to tight spots by now," Martha joked. "Where are we?"

_He didn't tell her?_

"The end of the line. No place like it," he responded, his cheerful grin falling as we stepped out into someone's bedroom.

"Home. You took me home?" Martha questioned, looking upset and making me fidget.

_Perhaps I should go back into the Tardis? This is a bit… awkward._

"In fact, the morning after we left, so you've only been gone about twelve hours," the Doctor answered, appearing oblivious to the hurt on Martha's face. "No time at all, really."

"But all the stuff we've done. Shakespeare, New New York, old New York?"

"Yup, all in one night, relatively speaking." He nodded. "Everything should be just as it was. Books, CDs, laundry. So, back where you were, as promised."

"This is it?"

"Yeah, we should probably…" He gestured between me and him, and I winced as Martha pinned me with a heated glare until her phone went off.

"I'm sorry," she apologized as the answering machine picked up.

"_Martha, are you there? Pick it up, will you?_" A woman complained.

"It's mum. It'll wait," Martha murmured.

"_All right then, pretend that you're out if you like. I was only calling to say that your sister's on TV. On the news of all things. Just thought you might be interested._"

She was, flicking on her television to find her sister standing next to an older man.

"_The details are top secret…_"

"How could Tish end up on the news?" Martha questioned.

"_Tonight, I will demonstrate a device which will define our world…_"

"She got a new job. PR for some research lab," she informed us, though the Doctor and I were fidgeting—anxious to leave.

"_With the push of a single button, I will change what it means to be human._"

Martha shut the TV off and looked back to us. "Sorry. You were saying we should…"

"Yes, yes. We should," the Doctor said, sounding distracted. "One trip is what we said."

"Yeah, I suppose things just kind of escalated."

"Mm, seems to happen to me a lot."

I wasn't really listening though, brows furrowed, and eyes still locked on the television. _Change what it means to be human…_

"_Mr. Smith, we can't wait much longer. All of history awaits us! What are we doing, standing around when we could be changing the world! Changing human history!_"

My breath hitched as the memory of my childhood shifted to something more recent.

"_You could help us, Miss Hawthorne. Just think of what we could do with this technology. We could revolutionize human history, the human race. We could change the __**world**__._"

"What about her?"

I snapped out of my thoughts as I looked to a rather angry Martha.

"I have to go after one trip, but she gets to stay?"

_Oh, this is what I was hoping to avoid, _I thought, taking a half-step back.

"Hawthorne's different," the Doctor said, not seeing how those words made things worse.

"What, so I'm not good enough?"

"No! T-That's not what I meant!"

I grimaced as a headache flared, no vision accompanying it this time, but a stomach-churning feeling of _wrongness_ instead.

"What _do_ you mean?"

"W-Well, um, she's special. She sort of, uh…"

I realized why the Doctor was hesitating on telling her. I told him about me in confidence. It was my story to tell and he didn't want to ruin the trust we now shared by telling her my secrets. So, it was up to me.

"I… I have nowhere to go," I explained, getting a suspicious frown from her. "A-And… well… I sort of can't die? I-I'm not sure how, but I… don't really know what to do, where to go."

The silence was deafening but Martha soon sighed, looking less upset than before.

"I… guess that makes sense. I'm not happy about it, but… it must suck, not being able to die."

I rubbed my arm awkwardly as she turned to the Doctor.

"Thank you, for everything."

"It was my pleasure." He smiled, looking to me. "Shall we?"

We headed back into the Tardis and the Doctor went to send us off, but I couldn't get rid of that tingling in my head.

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"You… Were you listening to that guy on the tele at all?"

He paused, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling in thought. "A bit, why?"

"Well…" I scratched my cheek, unsure about bringing up my concerns when it could turn out to be nothing. "It might sound a bit stupid, but what he said, about changing what it means to be human?"

The Doctor stopped the ship and turned to me. "He _did_ say something like that, didn't he?"

"Again, it might be nothing, but… well… I've heard things like that before—"

"…_change the world…"_

"…_change human history…"_

"…_change the future…"_

I winced. "—T-Thing is, it never turns out well."

He raised a brow, curiously. "You have good intuition, don't you?"

"W-What?" I sputtered, cheeks pink as he grinned and sent the ship back into motion.

"All right, Hawthorne. This one's on you."

"W-Wait! I-I don't want to be respons—" I was cut off as he put a finger to my lips—eyes sparking mischievously.

"Too late. You've got me curious." He moved back to the controls, missing my frozen form from his abrupt, intimate actions. "Now then, let's pop back in on Martha, shall we?"

"O-O-Okay…"


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's the next one! Sorry, it's been forever, but I sort of struggled to get back into the mindset of Hawthorne for a bit there. Managed somehow and while I think this might be a bit short, I hope to continue this fic as much as I can!**

**And for those following my other fics, I'm working on it, but it's slow going at the moment. I'm in the mood to write Doctor Who, but every time I go to write something I _need_ to write, my mind just stalls. I _have_ started a few new ideas though, which I might post [anyone want to see the Doctor with a dog? ;) ] but I'm going to try and get back into the swing of things. I'll post another update on my profiles for now.**

**But please enjoy and let me know what you think! As I said, had a bit of a tough time with this at first, and I want to make sure people are still interested in this one and that it's turning out okay despite my struggles.**

* * *

"Oh, black tie," the Doctor grumbled, fiddling with his cuffs. "Whenever I wear this, something bad always happens."

"It's not the outfit, that's just you," Martha argued as I tugged at the tie around my neck awkwardly.

"I've never worn a suit in my life," I murmured. "Are they always so uncomfortable?"

"You could have worn a dress," the Doctor shrugged, and I waved my hands.

"N-No, no, no. I'd rather be covered up, thanks." I turned to Martha, embarrassed. "N-Not that there's anything wrong with dressing up!"

Martha raised a brow but smiled. "It's fine, Hawthorne. Some people just don't like dressing up. Anyway, I think it suits you, Doctor. In a… James Bond kind of way."

"James Bond? Really?"

Martha chuckled as we approached Lazarus Laboratories, lightly slapping my hand away from my chest. "And you need to stop fiddling with it," she grumbled, tightening my tie once more as I grimaced.

"Sorry. I'm a bit nervous. I-I… I've never been to a party before."

She blinked in surprise. "Not one? Not a, a college frat party or a high school prom or anything?"

I fidgeted uneasily, resisting the urge to loosen the tie once more. "No. I was homeschooled partially and, um… didn't really have… well… friends."

I jumped when the Doctor draped an arm across my shoulders, leaning forward with a grin.

"Well, it's a good thing you've got us then! We can show you all sorts of things. Eating, drinking, dancing."

"I-I-I don't think… A-Aren't we here to find out what they're doing?" I stuttered out, face flushed at the mere thought of what I'd end up like on a dancefloor. "I-I don't even know _how_ to dance!"

"I can teach you!"

"Since when do Time Lords know how to dance?" Martha scoffed, shooting him a playful smirk.

"Oi! I can dance!" He huffed as we entered the reception area and I eyed the machine set up in the center.

His gaze though, was on the tray of food passing by.

"Oh, look! They've got nibbles!" He smiled, taking a few and handing me one. "I love nibbles."

I eyed the food in uncertainty, but once he tossed one into his mouth, I did the same. "They're a bit… different. What are they supposed to be?"

"Hors d'Oeuvres," he replied. "A sort of bite-sized snack for cocktail drinking. It's a fancy party thing."

"Huh," I murmured before I noticed Martha speaking with a woman who could only be her sister, Trish.

"…And mum, she's coming too. Even dragging Leo along with her."

Martha grinned. "Leo in black tie? That I must see. This is, uh, the Doctor."

The Doctor smiled, mouth full of food, but shook her hand. "Hello."

"And this is Rebecca Hawthorne."

I managed a small grimace of a smile, already feeling more than out of my comfort zone with all the bustling people. Thankfully, she didn't mind.

"Are they with you?"

"Yeah."

"But he's not on the list," she said, making me pause. "How did he get in?"

"They're my plus one."

"Sorry," I muttered, unable to help feeling curious. "But you said _he's_ not on the list? Does that mean I _am_?"

She nodded, checking her tablet. "Yes. One Doctor Rebecca Hawthorne. Ph.D. in Astrophysics and Quantum physics; Masters in mathematics and computer science. Personally invited by Mr. Saxon himself."

"I-I-I'm not—I-I mean, I am, b-but..." I wasn't sure what to say, having frantically started waving my hands in a vain attempt to make her _stop _giving away my accomplishments out of sheer embarrassment. _I don't even know who Mr. Saxon is, much less how he knows about my degrees when I earned them in another universe!_

"You're kidding," Martha breathed out, whereas the Doctor was grinning enthusiastically.

"Well, now, Becky. Hiding a bit more than your basic smarts then, aren't you?"

"I-I wasn't—"

He just chuckled, ruffling my hair as I ducked my cherry-red face into my hands in embarrassment. "Just having a bit of fun. So, this Lazarus, he's your boss?"

"Professor Lazarus, yes. I'm part of his executive staff," Tish said as Martha nodded.

"She's in the PR department."

"I'm _head_ of the PR department, actually."

"You're joking."

"I put this whole thing together."

"So, do you know what the professor's going to be doing tonight?" The Doctor asked, looking at the machine in the center of the room. "That looks like it might be a sonic microfield manipulator."

I gaped at him in surprise. "I _thought_ it looked familiar!"

"You've seen one before?"

I nodded. "We had one in our lab. Used it to do cell regeneration on plants and eventually it became the catalyst for early gene splicing and the creation of duplication. By altering the genetic makeup of species through sonic waves we were able to build more advanced versions of individual species, saving a nearly extinct form of wheat that was able to increase crop yields."

Tish leaned over to Martha. "They're science geeks. I should have known. Got to get back to work now. I'll catch up with you later."

She walked off as I sheepishly rubbed the back of my neck.

"Science geek? What's that mean?" The Doctor asked as Martha tried to find a polite way to explain.

"That you're obsessively enthusiastic about it."

"Oh, nice!"

"I-In a bad way, Doctor," I muttered, making his smile falter. "It's a bit of an insult."

The Doctor though leaned over towards me. "You wanna get a closer look at the manipulator?"

My eyes widened as I nodded. "Oh, yes!"

He chuckled and we moved right up beside it, giving it a once over until Martha was called to by an older woman—her mom—and brother.

"Mum!" Martha beamed, hugging her tightly.

_After the craziness we've just had, I can see why._ I fidgeted though, uneasy with families, much less mothers. They only reminded me of my own with their fights and shouting. I winced, wringing my hands before tugging once more at my tie until I heard my name.

"These are friends of mine. The Doctor and Rebecca Hawthorne."

Her mother eyed us both, suspicious. "Doctor what?"

"No, it's just the Doctor," Martha corrected. "We've been doing some work together."

Her brother took the initiative and shook our hands before the Doctor shook her mothers. I tried to avoid doing so, remaining tucked just on the other side of the Doctor and therefore out of reach.

"It's lovely to meet you, Mrs. Jones. Heard a lot about you."

"Have you? What have you heard, then?"

"Oh, you know, that you're Martha's mother and… Um, no, actually, that's about it. We haven't had much time to chat. You know, been busy," the Doctor fibbed, making us even more suspicious in her mother's eyes than before.

"Busy? Doing what, exactly?"

"Oh, you know. Stuff."

"Um," I jumped in, feeling bad for leaving the Doctor to this on his own. "We were discussing patents for the hospital. 3D printed organs, microfiber plant-based skin grafts, and the like. She is our 'in' to see the, um, head of the hospital. If we could convince her, then… Possible money in the future for both parties."

"Is that so?" She hummed, looking at least somewhat convinced ad the Doctor draped a hand over my shoulders in an attempt to boost my confidence as he stepped in.

"Of course! That's the word I was forgetting. Patents!"

She still didn't seem to like the Doctor very much, but we were saved from further scrutiny by the man of the hour tapping on his glass to get everyone's attention.

"Thank you," I breathed to the Doctor when he'd turned around, giving my shoulders a squeeze. "I-I'm not usually so…"

"Nah, don't worry about it. Never been to a party, stuck in a crowd, dealing with strangers. It's no wonder your anxiety is acting up. Just let me know if you need anything. I might have some medication in my pocket somewhere if you need it, though we really should get you started on something regular once this mess is over."

I nodded, not pleased to be having to return to medication to manage my problems, but I _did_ get through the days much easier with them. I took a deep breath and let it out, hoping to focus on some science the elderly Lazarus was spewing out instead of the closeness of the crowd. Unfortunately, it was less science and more show.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am Professor Richard Lazarus and tonight I am going to perform a miracle. It is, I believe, the most important advance since Rutherford split the atom, the biggest leap since Armstrong stood on the moon. Tonight, you will watch and wonder. Tomorrow, you will wake to a world which will be changed forever."

I blinked, glancing up at the Doctor as Lazarus stepped into the machine. "Who's Armstrong?"

He groaned. "Oh, we're going to have to update you on this universe's history too. Just how different was it?"

My gaze dropped. "More than you know."

The machine was started up, pillars spinning around it before an alarm began to blare and the machine began to spark dangerously. My eyes widened alongside the Doctor's.

"Something's wrong."

"It's overloading!" I exclaimed, rushing over with him to the computer systems.

He pulled out his sonic as the controls smoked and sparked, hopping over the table as I did the same, typing away quickly to try and understand the unfamiliar systems and how to shut down the machine.

"Somebody stop them!" Lady Thaw demanded. "Get them away from the controls!"

"If this thing goes up, it'll take the whole building with it. Is that what you want?" The Doctor snapped at her as I grimaced.

"The systems are locked! I can only redirect the power supply, but with him in there, doing so might kill him!"

The Doctor looked around before spotting a large power cable and yanking it from the machine. It slowed finally and Martha hurried over as the Doctor and I followed, afraid of what we'd find when we opened the door. Instead of a dying old husk, however, Richard Lazarus stepped out looking decades younger and thrilling the crowds.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am Richard Lazarus. I am seventy-six years old and I am reborn!"

* * *

"It can't be the same guy," Martha muttered in disbelief as Lazarus was photographed beside his elderly wife. "It's impossible. It must be a trick."

"Oh, it's not a trick. I wish it were," the Doctor muttered.

"What just happened then?"

"A sonic microfield manipulator uses sonic, or sound waves to alter the genetic sequence of things. Add a strand here, delete one there, switch a few around. Lazarus basically rewrote his DNA. I won't know the specifics unless I see the results on paper, but I believe he somehow managed to isolate the gene for aging and—"

Martha cleared her throat and Hawthorne paused, mouth open to say more, but understanding dawning on her.

"Ah, um…" She chewed on her lip for a second as the Doctor cracked a small smile at her ramble, explaining simpler.

"He changed what it means to be human." He stepped over towards Lazarus as the man scarfed down some of the food being passed around. "Energy deficit. Always happens with this kind of process."

Lazarus eyed him. "You speak as if you see this every day, Mr…"

"Doctor. And well, no, not every day, but I have some experience of this kind of transformation." The Doctor suddenly pulled Hawthorne forward with a grin. "Hawthorne knows more though if you don't want to take my word for it."

"I, um… O-Only with plants, really. J-Just the theory, mostly," Hawthorne stuttered out, not used to being put in the center of attention.

"That's not possible," Lazarus scoffed, and Hawthorne surprisingly bristled.

"Using hypersonic sound waves to create a state of resonance?"

Lazarus took a second to eye her now. "You understand the theory then."

"My lab used it to do cell altercation on plants and to create the catalyst for early gene splicing and possibly the beginnings of cellular duplication," she countered, proving herself and making the Doctor's grin widen with every word.

He was proud to have found a companion with this sort of intelligence, much less one that would hold her ground when treated poorly. He had hoped she would but wasn't sure with her more sheepish demeanor. He was grateful he wasn't proven wrong.

"Which is _why_," he jumped in, "we know enough to know that you couldn't possibly have allowed for all the variables."

"No experiment is entirely without risk," Lazarus challenges, chin up proudly.

"That thing nearly exploded. You might as well have stepped into a blender."

"You're not qualified to comment," Lady Thaw huffed, and he was surprised when Hawthorne argued that point.

"I have a Ph.D. in Astrophysics and Quantum physics. Does that make me not qualified?"

Lady Thaw took a step back when Lazarus pushed her away by the shoulder.

"Then, you must be Doctor Rebecca Hawthorne! My apologies, but this was a simple engineering issue. What happened inside the capsule was exactly what was supposed to happen. No more, no less."

Hawthorne had been thrown off by the recognition and Martha took that chance to add her own piece.

"You've no way of knowing that until you've run proper tests."

"Look at me. You can see what happened. I'm all the proof you need."

"This device will be properly certified before we start to operate commercially."

"Commercially? You are joking. That'll cause chaos!" Martha exclaimed.

"Not chaos, change. A chance for humanity to evolve, to improve," Lazarus argued calmly, no one noticing Hawthorne's breath catching in her throat at his words.

"This isn't about improving. This is about you and your customers living a little longer."

"Not a little longer, Doctor. A lot longer. Perhaps indefinitely."

"No one should live that long," Hawthorne muttered, drawing his attention to her. "Humanity wouldn't be able to handle it. The strain it puts on the mind, the body. Humanity wouldn't evolve, it would stagnate."

Lazarus cracked a terse smile. "Then, that's where our opinion will differ, Miss Hawthorne."

"Richard, we have things to discuss, upstairs," Lady Thaw interrupted, and he nodded.

"Goodbye, Doctor, Miss Hawthorne. In a few years, you'll look back and laugh at how wrong you were." Lazarus reached for Hawthorne, but she backed away—not comfortable with the contact.

So, he switched his target to Martha, kissing the back of her hand before leaving with his wife.

"Oh, he's out of his depth. No idea of the damage he might have done," the Doctor murmured, giving Hawthorne a look and clasping her shoulder, making her flinch. "You all right? Sorry for putting you on the spot like that. Thought you might be able to educate him a little."

Hawthorne shook her head, bowing it and trying to take a deep breath to calm her anxiety. "S-Sorry. I just…"

"It's all right. Let's get out of the crowd for a bit," he comforted her, leading their little trio out of the busier area. "I really am proud of you though, Hawthorne, standing up for yourself like that."

Martha nodded eagerly. "Yeah. I honestly didn't see that in you, but you really showed them, didn't ya?"

Hawthorne flushed, tugging on her ear lobe. "I, um… I-I had a really strict professor. He was really nice but tended to… force us to do things we weren't comfortable with in order to ensure we knew how to handle ourselves when facing criticisms on our work."

"He sounds like a great guy," the Doctor smiled, and she nodded.

"I learned a lot from him. He was… He was the first person who really understood me."

The Doctor ruffled her hair, making her grimace and immediately shoot her hands up to fix it. "And now you've got us!"

"Yup," Martha beamed. "So, what next?"

"I say we do our own tests," the Doctor hummed. "We've got a fully qualified scientist right here and I'm sure this place has plenty of labs."

"Lucky I've just collected a DNA sample then, isn't it?" Martha smirked, holding up the hand Lazarus kissed.

"Oh, Martha Jones. You're a star. Think you can figure out what's going on with him, Becky?"

Hawthorne nodded with a smile. "Oh, absolutely."

"Well then, let's get started."

* * *

I stared in shock at what I saw on the screen and even the Doctor was stunned.

"Amazing."

"What?" Martha asked, confused.

"Lazarus's DNA."

"I can't see anything different."

I pointed to the screen. "Watch."

The DNA strand on the screen flickered, changing into something different.

"Oh, my God. Did that just change? But it can't have."

"But it did," the Doctor disagreed.

"It's impossible."

"And that's two impossible things we've seen so far tonight. Don't you love it when that happens?" The Doctor beamed, whereas I was more hesitant.

"He's destabilized the cell structure," I muttered, eyeing the readings. "Manipulated the coding in the protein strands. He's changed his genes and rearranged them in order to become younger, but it's caused a mutation. Something in his DNA isn't letting it stabilize."

"Something's trying to change him," the Doctor agreed.

"Change him into what?" Martha worried.

"I don't know, but I think we need to find out. Any clues, Becky?"

I shook my head. "I've not seen anything like this before. I've altered DNA sequences on simpler things like plants, but even when we got to animal testing, they always stabilized. We made _sure_ they stabilized with a stabilizing compound. We didn't want to risk it otherwise, especially since we were going to eventually look at human cloning. I-I don't think humanity in this time period has the technology to create that compound. We practically had to develop a whole new element."

"Hold on, how do you know all this?" Martha asked and I bit my lip for a moment.

"I-I'm sort of from another universe? One where technology was far more advanced than here. I, um… actually think that's part of the reason I can't die."

The Doctor blinked at that. "Well, that's new. Have a new theory then, Becky?"

"Maybe? But, um… w-we should probably focus on the mutating Lazarus, shouldn't we?"

He cracked a smile, thankfully not pushing me for now. "You're right. We'll talk later then. Don't think you're getting out of it," he teased, managing to get a small smile from me as well.

"That woman said they were going upstairs," Martha reminded us, and we hurried up to his office as quickly as we could, but both he and his wife were gone. "This is his office, all right."

"So, where is he?"

"Did we miss him?" I wondered.

"Dunno," Martha mused. "Let's try back at the… reception."

We both turned, following her gaze only to see a set of skeletal feet sticking out from the other side of a desk and my heart leaped into my throat. We hurried over, but the moment I saw the deceased Lady Thaw, I had to step away. I wrung my hands together and clenched my eyes shut, desperately pushing out images of corpses I'd seen after my mistake and fighting to control my breathing. _I-I can't keep panicking like this. I j-just need to focus on what m-my therapist taught me._

"_Do you have problems a lot, Rebecca? These anxiety attacks?"_

_A young girl clenched her rabbit close, tucking her face against its head with a small nod._

"_And is there anything that helps you?"_

"_M-Mr. Smith."_

_He smiled softly. "Your rabbit then. But you don't always have him with you, right? What do you do then?"_

_She bit her lip, unable to tell him that she just panics until everything goes dark and quiet and she's left on her own. He seemed to understand though, putting down his notebook and drawing her gaze back to him._

"_How about we try a few things, hm? A few tricks to help you when you don't have Mr. Smith. Let's say, you're in a noisy place. A crowd in a shopping center and you've lost your mum. Now, you start to panic, right?"_

_She nodded, already feeling her breathing picking up pace at the thought of being all alone in a crowd._

"_So, you should try to find someplace quiet first, or out of the way, just to be safe."_

I moved to the lifts for the office, shaking and leaning against the wall, unnoticed by the Doctor and Martha for now.

"_Then, close your eyes so you're not scared of all the people around you."_

My eyes were clenched shut as tight as I could, not wanting to see the corpse only feet away.

"_Now, give your hands something to hold. The end of your shirt, perhaps. No, no. Not yourself. You might get hurt," he said, tugging the girl's hands off her upper arms._

I gripped the edge of my tuxedo jacket tight, focusing on the fabric between my fingers.

"_There you go. Now, I want you to softly breathe in, nice and slow. As slow as you can and I want you to think of something else."_

"_W-W-What?"_

"_Well, you like space, don't you? And history?"_

_The girl nodded._

"_Try thinking up something about those. Constellations, historic events or dates, stars or planets in the sky. Think of questions you have about the world and breathe in and out for everyone you come up with."_

I took a stuttering breath in. _Wonder where the Tardis gets all her clothes?_ And I breathed out. _Does she make them? Does the Doctor collect them? _Breathe in._ What is Lazarus changing into? Some sort of animal?_ Breath out. _Maybe he's egressing further into childhood since he's altered the genes responsible for aging?_ My breaths were calm now and the tight feeling in my chest had eased, just in time for the Doctor to look around and notice I'd moved.

"Beck? You okay?" He asked, lightly touching my arm and making me snap my eyes open in surprise.

"Y-Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." I swallowed thickly, pointedly keeping my gaze away from the body to avoid a recurrence of my earlier panic. "I-I'm not good with… death."

"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry. Stupid," he smacked his forehead. "Idiot, I am. Didn't mean to forget about that. You sure you're all right? You're a bit pale."

"P-Panic attack, but I-I'm okay," I said, managing a smile. "I-I handled it."

He looked pleasantly surprised but clasped my shoulder. "Good on you. I know that's not easy. I'll try to warn you ahead of time, or help you through it if I can, the next time it happens."

Neither of us wanted there to _be_ a next time, but I assumed it was probably inevitable with all the Doctor's travels. _Yet another reason to work on getting over it. If we were on the run, it could be a life or death situation if I were to freeze up every time someone…_ We stepped into the lift to head back to reception and the Doctor quickly informed me of what they learned from the body they'd found.

"Energy deficiency can make his body capable of doing that?" I questioned and the Doctor shrugged.

"Apparently, though we still don't know exactly what he's changing into. The best thing we can do is find him and get him isolated to prevent anyone else from getting hurt or killed."

I swallowed thickly, nervousness creeping up on me and I was grateful when the Doctor grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Don't worry. We'll figure this out."

So he said, but upon stepping out into reception, we _all_ became worried at the lack of the man himself.

"I can't see him."

"He can't be far. Keep looking."

"Could he have bypassed us on the lifts?" I worried.

"It's possible."

Martha got stopped by her brother for a minute and I grabbed the Doctor before he could wander too far off, making him double back with me as she informed us of what she'd learned.

"With Tish!"

_Not good_. What else wasn't good, was the fact that Martha's mother chose that moment to want to have a talk with the Doctor.

"Ah, Doctor."

He promptly ignored her, looking to Leo. "Where did they go?"

"Upstairs, I think. Why?"

"You were right, Becky. Let's go."

"Doctor—" Martha's mother was cut off as we hurried past her, spilling her drink. "I'm speaking to you!"

"Not _now_, mum!" Martha called back as we hurried to the lifts.

We got all the way back up to Lazarus's office, but they weren't there.

"Fluctuating DNA will give off an energy signature. I might be able to pick it up," the Doctor said, pulling out his sonic. "Got him."

"Where?"

He pointed up the sonic up, following the signature, and my eyes widened.

"They're on the roof!"

A set of stairs later left me panting and out of breath as the Doctor cut into Tish and Lazarus's conversation.

"Falls the Shadow."

"So the mysterious Doctor knows his Eliot. I'm impressed," Lazarus hummed as I frowned.

_Who?_ I shook it off, figuring it was another difference between our universes as Martha tried to coerce her sister away from Lazarus while the Doctor kept him busy.

"I wouldn't have thought you had time for poetry, Lazarus, what with you being busy defying the laws of nature and all."

"You're right, Doctor. One lifetime's been too short for me to do everything I'd like. How much more I'll get done in two or three or four."

"Doesn't work like that. Some people live more in twenty years than others do in eighty. It's not the time that matters, it's the person."

"But if it's the right person, what a gift that would be."

"Or what a curse. Look at what you've done to yourself."

"Who are you to judge me?" Lazarus turned then, eyeing me. "And you are of the same opinion? Surely, as a woman of science, you could see the logic in what I'm saying."

My head ached for a moment, a sense of wrongness making my stomach twist uneasily. _Something else I should ask the Doctor about. These spontaneous headaches and flashes of visions can't be normal, even if I __**am**__ from another universe… Right?_

"I-I…" I took a breath, trying to steel myself. "I understand the need to want to live longer. To feel like your life was wasted and that there's so much more you're missing out on."

I could feel the Doctor's eyes on me, but I resisted the urge to see what sort of expression he was making.

"So, you _do_ agree."

I shook my head, facing Lazarus as confidently as I could. "No, because the Doctor's right. I could experience a lot in the time I have left, and while it might not be enough time for me to experience everything, it allows me to open the doors up for others to experience things they never might have if I hadn't been around in that short time to show it to them."

Lazarus scowled, displeased with my answer, but the Doctor stepped up beside me and slipped his hand into mine, adding to the proud feeling I felt at those words. _Even if I may be unable to die now, I don't want to let it go to waste. I want to use this extra time to help others, experience the world, see things and experience things I should have in those first twenty-some-odd years of my life when living seemed not worth it._ Then, I grimaced, seeing Lazarus's body crack and snap until he towered over us as some mutated form of a giant-sized scorpion.

"What's that?" Tish breathed out in shock before the Doctor tightened his hold on my hand.

"Run!"

* * *

The group hurried back to reception the alarms blaring and the entire facility on lockdown with the imminent threat of Lazarus storming down the stairs.

"Tish, is there another way out of here?" The Doctor asked, looking around and seeing the number of people now trapped inside with a monster they didn't even know about yet.

"There's an exit in the corner, but it'll be locked now."

"Martha, Becky, setting fifty-four. Hurry," he said, tossing the sonic to Martha as she took off. He didn't wait to see if Hawthorne had followed, rushing up onto the raised platform by the machine in the center of the room to get everyone's attention. "Listen to me! You people are in serious danger! You need to get out of here right now!"

"Don't be ridiculous," a woman scoffed. "The biggest danger here is choking on an olive."

Lazarus was quick to prove her wrong when he stormed into reception, jumping down from the upper level and sending the crowd into a panic. Tables were thrown and Leo was knocked to the ground protecting his mother as Martha finally got the door open and ushered people out. Lazarus though approached a woman who was frozen in shock.

"No! Get away from her!" The Doctor shouted, but his hearts stopped.

He was too far away. There was no chance of saving her and he grimaced, turning away slightly only for the woman's scream to continue. His eyes widened as Lazarus stomped around in annoyance and he soon saw why. Hawthorne had jumped up and grabbed the stinging tail, protecting the petrified woman long enough for her to run off, but leaving herself dangling from the dangerous appendage as Lazarus whipped it around to shake her off. The one plus side tot his was that Lazarus was too distracted by her to bother any remaining injured or frozen guests, but the downside was when he finally _did_ manage to flick Hawthorne off—throwing her across the room.

"Rebecca!" The Doctor shouted, fear running through his veins as she hit the wall hard, falling through a table and not getting up.

His fear for her doubled when Lazarus started to head over and the Doctor grit his teeth.

"Lazarus! Leave her alone!" He called out, drawing the beast's attention to him "What's the point? You can't control it. The mutation's too strong. Killing those people won't help you. You're a fool. A vain old man who thought he could defy nature. Only Nature got her own back, didn't she? You're a joke, Lazarus! A footnote in the history of failure!" He mocked purposely, drawing Lazarus away from reception and running down a corridor.

He had to keep as many people as he could safe. He could only hope Martha got to Hawthorne to ensure she was okay until he could figure this out.

"What's the Doctor doing?" Tish asked, having seen him making a target of himself.

"He's trying to buy us some time. Let's not waste it. Leo, look at me. Focus on me. Let's see your eyes. He's got a concussion. Mum, you'll need to help him downstairs," she said, handing her some ice in a napkin. "This'll keep the swelling down. Go! I'll be right behind you. Tish, move! We need to get out of here, but I need to find Hawthorne first. Keep them safe."

Tish nodded, hurrying their family towards the doors as Martha quickly opened the main door for them before returning to search the reception for a sign of Hawthorne—though not without some complaint from her mother.

"Hawthorne! Hawthorne! B-Becky! Oh, please be okay," she murmured, hearing a groan and rushing over to where she saw a hand pushing off an upturned table. "Becky!"

She immediately went into doctor mode, seeing blood on her temple and how she blinked tightly as though trying to clear her vision.

"Becky, look at me. I need to check for a concussion."

"'m fine," Hawthorne argued, shaking her head only to bring a hand up to it when she did with grit teeth.

"You're obviously not. Focus on me for a minute."

Hawthorne tried, but Martha winced.

"Definitely a concussion. You need to get out with the others." She grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the blood on her forehead. "Might need stitches for that too."

"N-Not without the Doctor," Hawthorn pressed.

"You're in no shape to go after him, and I wasn't about to leave him on his own. I'll go after him, but you need to stay safe."

Hawthorne was stubborn though, pushing off the wall and getting to her feet with another shake of her head, steadier this time. "You'll need all the help you can get, and I—"

"No," Martha said seriously, moving to stand in front of her with a glare. "How do you think the Doctor would feel if you went in there like this? You have a _concussion_, Hawthorne. A serious one, and if you go in there now, all you're going to do is add to whatever problems the Doctor has to deal with. How's he supposed to stop this _and _keep you safe?"

Hawthorne winced, shrinking back under Martha's glare and the woman sighed.

"I'm not trying to be mean, but you have to look at it from every point of view, yeah? I'll go after him. I've got to get back his sonic anyway. You just go outside and get looked at by paramedics, then you can help us. Okay?"

Hawthorne nodded solemnly, but Martha could see it. She was tense, unable to focus and still rather unsteady on her feet. She even thought she could hear a bit of a wheeze in her breaths, but until she was able to properly look at Hawthorne, there would be no time to address it. She led Hawthorne to the doors, handing her off to Tish with strict instructions to get her seen by medical professionals as soon as they showed up, before hurrying back inside to help the Doctor deal with Lazarus.

* * *

She couldn't do it. She felt terrible for slipping back inside the moment Tish had her back turned, but Hawthorne's heart was racing in fear. And for once, it wasn't fear for her own personal safety. She feared for the Doctor. For the first person to look at her and believe in her, make her smile and laugh, the first person to be _proud_ of her. And she was afraid of upsetting him, of losing him. She hadn't known him that long, but how could she not get attached? She'd shown him the impossible—a person not of this universe—and he'd accepted it. He'd taken her in when she had nowhere to go and to run out now and leave him on his own when he was in trouble? She couldn't do it.

She'd never been a reckless person. Quite the opposite, in fact. And sure, her experiments could get a little out of hand, but she would much rather hide under a desk in fear of the large scorpion-like Lazarus than face him. But wasn't that what the Doctor was doing now? And she'd faced people before. People who scared her.

"_Useless child!"_

"_Miss Hawthorne."_

And now he was facing something that undoubtedly scared him, and she couldn't stand by and let that happen. Even if there was nothing she could personally do to help, she wanted to be there by his side, and that was something she'd never felt before. He kept doing that, making her feel and experience things so very new to her. She reckoned she owed him one and this was it. So, even with her lungs burning, a pained stitch in her side warning her of a possible cracked rib, and a throbbing headache, she pressed onward. She ran through the facility, mind racing as she climbed the stairs. _He'd need something to stop him. A-A weapon of some kind. There's only one place he could get something like that here. _She stopped on the stairs and leaned over the railing, looking back down the way she'd come.

"The machine!"

A grin broke out on her face as she scrambled back down, grimacing when there was a loud explosion somewhere else in the building. _Don't think about it. He's drawing its attention, making it follow him and that will undoubtedly lead him here. The machine is the best chance he's got of reversing this and that's something I can actually help with._ She rushed back down, hopping the desk and immediately regretting it when a sharp pain ran up her side, forcing her to double over with a wheeze. _D-Definitely cracked._ She shook her head, wincing as her vision took an extra moment to right itself.

"No, no. Come on. You've dealt with this sort of thing before," she murmured under her breath, leaning on the tabletop and starting to get the machine set up so plugging it in wouldn't just set the machine off.

She finally reached around the back, plugging back in the cord the Doctor had yanked out before to get the machine started.

"No, no, no. I'll have to do a system's reboot," she grimaced, one arm wrapped around her side as her eyes skimmed the readings as quickly as possible. "We honestly don't have time for this, but I don't have a choice."

She began rebooting the system, hearing footsteps the next level up hastily coming down. _No time at all. Come on. This is something I can do to help. That's all I ever wanted, was to help._

"_This is all your fault!"_

"_You could help us, Miss Hawthorne. Help us change the world."_

She grit her teeth, eyes widening when the system finally booted with a chime and she began to furiously type and adjust knobs and switches. _If I could just reverse it—_

"Becky!"

"Not now!" She called back to the Doctor and Martha as they rushed into the room. "I've nearly got—"

"No time!" The Doctor shouted, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her into the machine with himself and Martha just as Lazarus skid across the tiles into the reception room with them.

"Are we hiding?" Martha asked.

"No, he knows we're here, but this is his masterpiece. I'm betting he won't destroy it, not even to get at us," The Doctor replied, not realizing Hawthorne's ears were bright red due to her face being pressed to his chest.

"But we're trapped," Martha argued, fidgeting a bit in the tight space that was barely holding the three of them.

"Well, yeah, that's a slight problem."

"You mean you don't have a plan?"

"Yes, the plan was to get inside here?"

Martha eyed him over Hawthorne's shoulder. "Then, what?"

"Well, then I'd come up with another plan." He finally looked down at Hawthorne, raising a brow. "And what were _you_ doing, exactly, Hawthorne?"

"I-I, um—"

"I thought I told you to leave with Tish!" Martha scolded. "You have a _concussion_, Becky!"

"What!" The Doctor yelped, hastily pushing her back so he had room to get to his sonic to scan her, only for both women to cringe.

"Hey!" Martha snapped. "Watch it!"

"Sorry," he murmured, realizing it would be a bit harder than he thought to get to his sonic, which was in his front coat pocket.

"I-I…" Hawthorne tried again to speak, pointedly keeping her head bowed and eyes on the floor—her hands pressed against the Doctor's chest to try and keep _something_ between her and him.

She wasn't used to being this close to _anyone_, much less the Doctor.

"I, um, was trying to r-reverse the process."

His eyes widened. "That's brilliant! Did you finish?"

Hawthorne winced, shaking her head. "I-It needed to reboot, and the data was showing that they hadn't made it _to_ be reversible."

His smile fell. "Not good then."

_And just when I thought I could help…_

"So, what now?" Martha asked, wincing when her elbow hit the wall of the machine.

She was right up against the door and worried she would somehow accidentally open it at this rate.

"We improvise. Becky, can you get my sonic? It's in my front right pocket."

Hawthorne nodded, trying to reach her hands up high enough to slip into his pocket while also doing her best not to think about what she was doing. As it was, being stuck in a small cramp space like this was making her anxious. Her breathing had picked up a bit, making the Doctor frown lightly when his ears picked up the wheezing after each breath. _Martha said concussion, but could it be worse?_

"H-Here," Hawthorne said, managing to slip the sonic into his hand and he plastered on a smile, knowing that questioning her now would only make the situation worse.

"Excellent! Budge up a bit." He sank down to the ground, muttering apologies to Hawthorne and Martha and pulling up a panel in the bottom of the machine.

"I still don't understand where that thing came from. Is it alien?" Martha asked once he'd gotten to work.

"No. For once, it's strictly human in origin."

"Human? How can it be human?"

"T-There's all sorts of possibilities coded into our DNA," Hawthorne explained, trying to keep her attention on something else other than the small space and the Doctor tucked just under her legs. "Humans evolved to become the way we are now. I-I suppose if you take all the possibilities of what we could have been and put it together…"

"So, it's a throwback?"

Hawthorne winced at a headache, shaking her head slightly at the afterimage of Martha having this conversation with the Doctor.

"Some option that evolution rejected for you millions of years ago, but the potential is still there. Locked away in your genes, forgotten about until Lazarus unlocked it by mistake."

"It's like Pandora's Box."

"Exactly. Nice shoes, by the way, Beck."

Hawthorne flushed again, fidgeting in her Converse that matched the Doctor's own. "T-The dress shoes pinched my toes."

"Ah, these are better for running anyway." He glanced up briefly, flashing her a reassuring smile and keeping her distracted as he stopped sonicking the wires he held and gave her a quick scan instead.

_Not good. Three cracked ribs, concussion, and spiking adrenaline levels that could lead to a panic attack if we're not careful, or worse—given the state of her ribs._ The machine hummed then, glowing blue and Martha grabbed Hawthorne's arm, leaning around her to look at the Doctor fearfully.

"Doctor, what's happening?"

"Sounds like he's started the machine."

"And that's not good, is it?"

Hawthorne fidgeted, eyeing the ceiling. "I-I didn't finish the sequencing. Because it's not reversible, it's still set to rejuvenate. We'll turn into him."

Martha paled as the Doctor worked faster.

"Well, I was hoping it was going to take him a little bit longer to work out how to get it started."

"Y-You'd think claws would make it more difficult," Hawthorne replied with a nervous chuckle that ended with a cringe and her hand wrapping around her side.

"Hang in there, Beck. Nearly done."

"Well, what're you doing?" Martha questioned in concern.

"I'm trying to set the capsule to reflect energy rather than receive it."

"Will that kill it?"

"When he transforms, he's three times his size. Cellular triplication. So, he's spreading himself thin."

Hawthorne's eyes widened. "You want to overload his system with energy!"

"Who cares! We're going to end up like him!" Martha wailed, the machine nearly finished.

"Just one more!"

The machine went off then, but the blast flared outward, throwing Lazarus away and leaving the trio safe as the machine powered down. Carefully, the Doctor stood back up and pushed open the door, coming out while ensuring that things actually were safe.

"Oh, I thought we were going to go through the blender then," Martha muttered, climbing out with Hawthorne on her heels.

"Really shouldn't take that long just to reverse the polarity. I must be a bit out of practice," the Doctor hummed.

"You've _really_ got to teach me how to use that," Hawthorne replied, earning a small smile from him.

"Maybe I'll show you how to make one."

He could read the enthusiasm on her face at the idea before they found Lazarus lying naked on the floor not far away.

"Oh, God. He seems so human again. It's kind of pitiful," Martha murmured, and the Doctor eyed the man sadly, tucking Hawthorne into his side just in case she had another episode.

"Eliot saw that too. This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but a whimper."

The paramedics finally showed up then, moving to take away Lazarus' body as the Doctor lightly prodded Hawthorne in the side, earning a cringe.

"And _you_ need to be more careful. What were you thinking, jumping on him like that?"

Hawthorne looked away sheepishly. "I didn't want anyone else to get hurt."

"And instead, _you_ got hurt. What am I going to do with you, eh? Talk about reckless. You and me, we're going to have a talk about the value of a life—particularly your own. Cracked ribs _and_ a concussion?"

Hawthorne winced, holding her side as Martha went to join up with her family a little bit ahead. "I wasn't _trying_ to get hurt."

The Doctor's expression softened. "But you're not exactly going out of your way to prevent it either. I'm just worried, Becky. Can't have you getting hurt every adventure, and…" He paused, hesitating for a minute as he eyed her reaction. "And you're important to me."

He saw the flash of surprise before she hastily covered it up with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. _She doesn't believe me._

"All right. I-I'll try to do better."

He pushed past the ache in his hearts for the woman standing before him who couldn't believe in his honest words due to her past and managed a small smile in return. "I should hope so, or I might just have to tie you to the bed in the Tardis med bay." He loosened his bowtie as Martha's mother finally headed over. "Ah, Mrs. Jones. Still haven't finished our chat."

She promptly slapped him hard across the face making Hawthorne flinch at his side and take a step back as Martha gaped.

"Keep away from my daughter."

"Mum, what are you doing!"

"All of the mothers, every time," the Doctor muttered, giving Hawthorne a reassuring glance. "I'm fine, really."

He reached out slowly, catching her hand and giving it a squeeze before she could pull back, her eyes locked on Francine with something akin to fear. _Reminds her of her own mum. Need to be careful. A panic attack in her condition would be the opposite of good._ He rubbed his thumb over the back of her knuckles, grateful when she finally gripped his hand in return. _Good. Keeping her grounded. Definitely going to have to work with her on this. She seriously needs help._ He cleared his throat, not really listening as the family in front of him argued about whether he was a good or bad man. He'd heard it all before anyway. No point in dwelling on it.

Then, there was a loud crash and he hastily took off, dragging Hawthorne with him only to find the ambulance that had once held Lazarus's corpse had crashed, leaving two bone-dry husks in the back.

"Lazarus back from the dead. Should have known, really," he muttered, Martha and Tish rushing up as well as Hawthorne winced and stepped away from the ambulance.

"Where's he gone?" Martha asked as the Doctor used his sonic to try and find out.

"That way. The church."

"Cathedral," Tish corrected. "It's Southwark Cathedral. He told me."

The Doctor nodded, leading the way and following the signal on his sonic as they entered the cathedral.

"Do you think he's in here?" Martha asked, seeing no sign of the man in the darkened church.

"Where would you go if you were looking for sanctuary?" The Doctor asked, walking them up to the altar where Lazarus was huddled in a shock blanket on the other side.

"Came here before, a lifetime ago," Lazarus murmured. "I thought I was going to die then. In fact, I was sure of it. I sat here, just a child. The sound of planes and bombs outside."

"The blitz."

"You read about it," Lazarus concluded, but the Doctor shook his head slightly, eyeing the man as he shook and spasmed.

"I was there."

"You're too young."

"So are you."

Lazarus chuckled, before letting out a cry of pain when his body cracked dangerously. "In the morning," he said, one he was in control of himself once more. "The fires had died, and I was still alive. I swore I'd never face death like that again. So defenseless. I would arm myself, fight back, defeat it."

"That's what you were trying to do today?" The Doctor asked, seeing movement out of the corner of his eye and giving Hawthorne a glance.

She'd closed her eyes, wrapping her arms tightly around herself to hide her shaking hands and mouthing something to herself. The Doctor could just barely make it out in the dark.

"_You're not there. You're fine. Focus. The war is over._"

He frowned slightly, even more so when he got Lazarus's response.

"That's what I did today."

"What about the other people who died?" The Doctor questioned, searching for some form of compassion to help him make the decision of what he was going to try and do with the man in front of them.

"They were nothing. I changed the course of history."

Hawthorne flinched, but the Doctor set his concerns about her aside for now, facing the problem in front of him first. He'd speak with her again back on the Tardis.

"Any of them might have done too. You think history's only made with equations? Facing death is part of being human. You can't change that."

"No, Doctor. Avoiding death, that's being human. It's our strongest impulse, to cling to life with every fiber of being. I'm only doing what everyone before me has tried to do. I've simply been more successful."

"Not being able to die isn't living!" Hawthorne suddenly snapped, making the Doctor wince.

He should have put a bit more focus on her. She was shaking worse now, one hand wrapped around her injured side and the other tangled in her hair. Her uncharacteristic shouting had only added to his concerns over her mental health considering that the topic of discussion was immortality and humanity. The Doctor felt that being able to die, fearing death and making the most of your limited time is what made a human, human. Hawthorne, being someone who was apparently unable to die, believed the same but that meant she was struggling with her own humanity. Was she human if she couldn't die? And if not, then what _was_ she?

The questions had her in a small panic, making her wheezing more audible and causing the Doctor to grit his teeth, annoyed that Lazarus was the one causing her to feel inhuman.

"Look at yourself!" He snapped at the man. "You're mutating! You've no control over it. You call that a success?"

"I call it progress," Lazarus argued, thankfully turning his attention away from Hawthorne as Martha tried to help her get under control. "I'm more now that I was. More than just an ordinary human."

"There's no such thing as an ordinary human."

Lazarus spasmed again and Martha whispered under her breath to the Doctor.

"He's going to change again any minute."

"I know. If I can get him up into the bell tower somehow, I've an idea that might work."

"Up there?"

Martha looked up, mind racing as Lazarus finished and snarled at him.

"You're so sentimental, Doctor. Maybe you are older than you look."

"I'm old enough to know that a longer life isn't always a better one," the Doctor murmured, giving Hawthorne a small glance only to frown when he didn't see her. _Did she run out?_ "In the end, you just get tired. Tired of the struggle, tired of losing everyone that matters to you, tired of watching everything turn to dust. If you live long enough, Lazarus, the only certainty left is that you'll end up alone."

"That's a price worth paying."

"Is it?"

"I will feed soon," Lazarus growled.

"I'm not going to let that happen," the Doctor countered, eyes racing in search of Hawthorne as Martha seemed to notice her missing as well.

"You've not been able to stop me so far."

"But I have."

Their eyes snapped to Hawthorne as she leaned against the wall near the door to the staircase that would lead up to the bell tower.

"Hawthorne, don't," the Doctor said, seeing what she was planning and not having a good feeling about it.

She cracked a hesitant smile. "S-Sorry, but I can't die, right? S-So, I'd rather be the one in the life-or-death chases than risk you getting hurt."

"Rebecca!" He shouted as Lazarus snarled.

"Immortal? We'll see about that!"

He lunged forward and the Doctor cursed when Martha and Tish rushed after Hawthorne as well. He needed to get into position if he wanted to get her out of there in one piece. _Oh, we're definitely having a talk when we get back._

* * *

"Hawthorne!"

I winced at the Doctor's shout, hearing the growls and snarls a bit of the way down and hasty footsteps approaching as Martha and Tish hurried up the stairs after me. _Oh, he is __**very**__ not happy with me._ I peeked out of the arch beside me and looked down to see him frowning up at me.

"Take him to the top. The very top of the bell tower, do you hear me!"

I nodded. "T-Top! Got it!"

"Hawthorne, come on!" Martha shouted, grabbing my arm as Tish ran up ahead and we hastily hurried after her—Lazarus getting ever closer.

My side ached, like the worst muscle cramp in the world as my ribs strained under the pressure of running. I was having a hard time catching my breath, wheezing far worse than I had been as we made it to the top.

"There's nowhere to go. We're trapped!" Tish shouted, and I shook my head.

"T-The Doctor wanted us here. He can stop Lazarus here."

"All right, so then we're not trapped. We're bait."

"He knows what he's doing. We have to trust him," Martha tried to coax her, just as Lazarus stepped onto the wooden scaffolding with us. "Stay behind me. If he takes me, make a run for it. Head down the stairs. You should have enough time," Martha warned Tish.

"But—"

"Just do it, Tish!" Martha snapped as I moved before her. "Becky, don't you dare!"

I shook my head though, facing Lazarus with as much courage as I could muster. "You should both go. I can't die. I've already done so, and you've seen it. I can buy you time, but you should just go."

"We're not leaving you!"

"Martha, just do it!" I shouted, hating how eerily similar I sounded to my own mother and wincing.

There was a reason I didn't shout. I didn't want to be anything like her.

"You'll die!"

"Not for long."

"But the Doctor, he—"

"He's the first person to believe in me!" I yelled, silencing her as I grit my teeth against the pain and ever-growing fear in my body. "A-And I want to do this for him. I-I _need_ to do this."

Martha hesitated but soon nodded as Lazarus began to try and find a way across the large gap separating him from us. His tail swung around, and we ducked as the pipe organ below began to play loudly, echoing in our ears. The railing behind me cracked under a swipe of Lazarus's tail and when I turned around, it was too late. The tail hit me hard in the side, knocking my breath out of me and sending pain radiating up my spine as something in me snapped. I choked, feeling a sense of weightlessness for a split second before my hand reached out and grabbed the edge of the platform. My arm ached at the strain of holding me and my ribs burned as my muscles pulled taunt.

Lazarus jumped over the gap and began trying to jab at my hands with his pincers as Martha shouted to try and stop him to no avail. I narrowly dodged a pincer through the hand, but it left me dangling by one arm as black spots of pain began to swarm my vision. The organ went off even louder then, making Lazarus flail in agony as my own ears began to ring. I was losing my grip though, but Lazarus lost his first, tumbling over the side and to the ground below. The organ cut off and hands suddenly grabbed my arm, making me peer my eyes open to see Martha and Tish hanging onto me as they tried to pull me up.

"Martha! Rebecca!" The Doctor called out from below as I was pulled back onto the platform, struggling to breathe.

"We're okay!" Martha called back, before seeing my trouble. "Hawthorne—Becky's struggling to breathe!"

"We need to get her to the Tardis! Can you get her down here!"

Martha nodded, getting Tish to help me up and trying to calm me down as I gasped for breath. Once at the bottom of the stairs, she leaned me up against a pillar as the Doctor hurried around the corner, sonic scanning me immediately once he skid to my side.

"What did I say?" He snapped, grimacing at the reading before moving his hand to check my ribs. "Reckless. Why are you so…" He closed his eyes for a second before letting out a breath of exasperation and standing. "We need to get you to the Tardis. Martha, stay here with her and I'll bring it over. Keep her conscious and breathing, and… Well, you know."

"I-I…" I winced at my raspy voice, giving the Doctor a look when he stiffened—refusing to look at me for the moment. "I-I just… w-wanted to… help."

His eyes snapped to me and for a second, I saw the harsh cold eyes of my mother, before he let out a soft sigh and ruffled my hair like he always does.

"Then, help me by keeping safe. Please," he begged, brushing his hand over my cheek and wiping a tear away. "You're going to give me grey hairs with all the worrying you're making me do."

I let out a short chuckle that was ended quickly by pain, which sent the Doctor rushing back for his ship.

"I didn't know he could play," Martha said, trying to keep me occupied to prevent me from slipping into unconsciousness.

I winced when the image of her hugging the Doctor came to mind.

"_I didn't know you could play?"_

"_Oh, well, you know, if you hang around with Beethoven, you're bound to pick a few things up."_

"_Hmm. Especially about playing loud."_

"_Sorry?"_

"B-Beethoven," I muttered with another small laugh.

"What?"

I shook my head. "H-He's the Doctor… H-Had to have… learned it from… s-someone. Why n-not… B-Beethoven?"

Martha smiled as the wheezing of the Tardis drifted into the room and the Doctor hurried back in from outside.

"Did you learn to play from Beethoven?" Martha asked him, earning a surprised look.

"Sorry?"

"The organ," she replied, helping me up onto my feet.

"Oh, well, if you hang around him long enough, you're bound to pick up a few things."

"Especially playing loud," Martha quipped as my brows furrowed.

_This is what I saw but… different. What exactly are these visions? Even before, I saw Martha hanging over the edge, being bait for Lazarus. I… I'm never in them either. It's almost like… like before. When they began to alter time, killing Stalin, changing the future. I felt that. I could tell how wrong it was. Am I… Am I catching glimpses of an alternate timeline?_ I blinked with a cringe at the light now shining in my eyes, turning away from it slightly as my head ached.

"Becky, hold still. I need to check on your concussion," the Doctor chided.

I hadn't even realized when I'd gotten to the med bay.

"You okay?" He asked, seeming to have realized my confusion.

"I, um…" I inhaled with a curious frown, realizing I was breathing normally. "W-What did you do?"

"You don't remember?"

I hesitated, not wanting to worry him—not wanting to be a burden. "I… I was thinking."

"What were you thinking about?" He asked, surprising me by not questioning why I didn't remember him treating me.

"I…" _Do I tell him? I said I was going to give him my theory about why I was here, but if I tell him that… If I tell him about __**feeling**__ the changes in a timeline… Won't I have to tell him everything?_

"You don't have to tell me if it's that hard for you," he said quietly, glancing at my hands that I quickly relaxed so they weren't twisting the sheets of the medical bed in a white-knuckle grip. "But if you do, I'm willing to listen and believe in the impossible even for a minute." He gave me a soft smile, lowering his sonic and turning to grab some things from a metal cart nearby.

_He… He deserves to know… I've… I've held back long enough, haven't I? I can't keep going like this, hiding everything. Either… Either he'll help, or he'll leave me. Might even punish me, which I would deserve. As it is, I've… I've started to get attached. Any further a-and…_ I closed my eyes, sagging as I let out a long, shaky breath.

"I-I… I invented a time machine," I started, drawing his attention back to me and he turned to face me fully. "But the… the government had been watching me at some point. I-I don't know when. So, when I finished…"

"_You're clever, Miss Hawthorne…"_

"_We've already taken your machine."_

I wrapped my arms around myself, unable to look at the Doctor. "T-They took me a-a-and offered me a position. In my universe, we were on the brink of war and they… they wanted me to…" I swallowed thickly, feeling the Doctor's eyes on me and resisting a shiver. "They wanted me to show them how to use it to stop the war."

"Did you?"

"No!" I shouted, whipping around to him before wincing and shrinking away. "I-I mean… I-I never wanted to. I… I only lasted two months."

_I choked and gagged, being yanked out of the water trough with a gasp of air._

"_Help us and then all of this will stop."_

_A blade dragging down my back slowly, dripping blood onto the concrete floor._

"_It's up to you, Miss Hawthorne."_

The Doctor touched my hand and I jerked away, eyes wide and bordering a panic attack, but the sight of his calm caramel eyes helped me calm down.

"What happened?" He murmured, and I bit my lip.

"I-I… I was tortured. They w-wouldn't let me refuse… I-I'm used to pain, but that was…"

_The sound of crunching bones as the pressure on my hand grew until they snapped._

"I-I-I never wanted to hurt anyone," I cried, tears falling as my shaky hands pawed at my face to try and stop them in vain. "B-But I had no choice. I-I thought if they could see, if they understood—"

"Rebecca," he muttered softly, pulling a hand from my face. "What did they do?"

"T-They changed history," I breathed. "T-They gave me a date a-and coordinates. I-I-I didn't know where or when it was. They—A-Agent Rivers, he… he killed Stalin."

The Doctor blinked then, suddenly confused. "What?"

"S-Stalin. H-He killed him. T-The man w-who was responsible for World War II."

"Becky, that was Hitler. Adolf Hitler."

Now, it was my turn to frown. "N-No. Stalin committed genocide, started World War II with Italy a-and Germany and Japan."

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Oh. _Oh,_ in your universe, history was different. In this universe, Hitler started World War II. That agent killed our equivalent of Hitler." His face paled. "Oh, no. No, no, no. He… He killed our equivalent of Hitler meaning…"

"H-He caused a-a severe ripple in time," I explained. "With Stalin dead, everything was turned upside-down. Hitler—_our_ Hitler—h-he took over where Stalin left off. When we went back to our time… I-I didn't notice it at first, but… we were all speaking German. Germany had won World War II. W-When we were on the brink of a war with China before, we were now in the middle of World War III against Japan, Africa, Spain, and Italy. S-Space travel was set back dozens of years, technology more advanced than ever began to surface before the basic transportation. M-My universe was falling apart a-a-and it was all my fault."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't it?" I argued, looking at him with as much sincerity as possible. "I invented the time machine. I _allowed_ them to use it. I wasn't able to stop them o-or change anything. They put me in house arrest and continued to use my time machine to mess it up more and more and more. It hurt so much. Everything w-was so wrong a-a-and…"

I brought a hand up to my head, remembering the pain I'd been in and feeling the phantom aches.

"Hold on. It hurt? Becky, are you… are you time-sensitive?" He suddenly pulled out his sonic, giving me a once over and frowning at the device. "It's impossible. You're only human. That amount of sensitivity to changes in time is beyond your capabilities."

"I-I don't know," I muttered, pulling my hand away and giving him a worried look. "I… something happened after that. I… They hadn't taken my miniature prototype. I was able to m-make a sort of haphazard replica. I-It was dangerous and… unprotected. I hadn't expected to…"

He sagged a bit, understanding. "You didn't expect to survive."

I shook my head, bowing it slightly. "I-I just wanted to last long enough to warn myself. B-Before the government found out before I finished it."

His eyes went wide. "You crossed your own timestream."

"I-I know," I whined, tugging at my hair. "It was stupid. I could have ripped an even bigger hole in the universe, in time itself, b-but I didn't know what else to do! P-People were dying because of me! I-I had to stop it! I… I had to try… but Rivers followed me."

"_I'm sorry, Miss Hawthorne… But I can't let you do that."_

"I warned my younger self a-and she was going to destroy it. He shot me a-and then… t-then he shot her."

"A paradox," the Doctor murmured. "He actively caused a paradox. By killing you before you finished the time machine, the time machine shouldn't have existed. _You_ wouldn't exist."

"He could have taken the notes about how it works to the past, gotten someone else to finish the time machine," I argued. "He… He never needed me once he got me to show him how it worked."

"But if he killed you, then how did you end up here?"

I cracked a wobbly smile then, surprising him. "I-I was just too clever. I took the prototype a-and locked myself inside my original time machine. I a-actually wrote a paper about it once. What would happen if you put a time machine inside another time machine?"

The Doctor's eyes went wide in understanding and I let out a bitter chuckle.

"I-I had no idea, really. I-I had hoped it would cancel the existence of both time machines with me in it. But… B-But I think my other theory w-was more accurate. I-I think… I think that's why I can't die."

"How do you mean?" He murmured.

"I think setting off my prototype inside the time machine forced them into a never-ending loop o-of existence and non-existence. So, I-I exist here and when I die—"

"You don't exist. You get thrown back into your time machines only for their force to throw you back out again at a different time," he breathed out and I nodded.

"I-It's just a theory, b-but it's better than the others." I hesitated though, having seen his reaction to my supposed time sensitivity. "T-The thing is, I… I keep getting these headaches."

"Headaches?"

I tapped my temple. "S-Short ones. A brief flash of pain, but… but I catch glimpses of things. Events."

He frowned in thought. "How do you mean?"

I bit my lip for a moment, thinking about how to explain my theory. "I-I think… I think I'm still time-sensitive, as you said. I'm from another universe. I-I'm not meant to be in this one, so my presence alone changes things and… and when I do, I get a headache. I-I see a brief glimpse of how things were supposed to go if I weren't there. Martha was supposed to be the bait for Lazarus. You and her were supposed to share a bed back with Shakespeare. _You_ were supposed to have had the heart attack caused by the witch. I… I keep seeing these things, how I've changed events and… and I…"

"You're scared," the Doctor said, seeing how I'd begun to quiver again and wring my hands tightly.

"I-I've already caused s-such a big mess in my universe. I-I don't want to do the same here, but I-I-I'm already changing things. H-How long before I… b-before I end up hurting someone? Creating a paradox? I-I'm responsible for a _World War_. A-A-All those people… I-If I do that again… I-If I cause a-another genocide, a-another war, I-I-I don't think… I-I can't… I-I—"

The Doctor got up and held me, even as I struggled in his arms.

"N-No. No! Y-You can't! Y-You c-c-can't!" I sobbed, pushing against his chest, but his arms held me tight against him. "W-W-Why? H-How can you just…I-I'm a-a terrible person! I-I k-killed people! It's a-all my fault a-and now—"

"And now, you're safe," he said calmly, breath brushing over my ear. "Oh, Rebecca. I'm so sorry."

"N-N-No," I choked. "N-No. I-I-I hurt people."

"No, you didn't. That agent hurt people. _He_ caused that catastrophe, not you. You did your very best, Rebecca. You had only the best intentions. The world just wasn't ready for it. Just like you said."

"I-I… I c-could mess things up here."

"You won't. I promise," he murmured, holding me tight and letting out a shaky sigh of his own. "I swear."

"Y-You can't know that."

"I don't have to," he said, pulling away a bit and wiping the tears from my face. "You're a good person, Beck. I've seen it. Every second I've been with you, all I've seen is someone who's been through a lot of pain, but also someone who's smiling at new discoveries. A person who sees the joys in everyday things and works her hardest to be as happy as she can. You only try to _help_ people, even when they've only ever been cruel to you. You're an amazing person, Becky, I don't doubt that."

"B-But the visions—"

He shrugged. "You're time-sensitive and thankfully, you're not getting those visions _before_ things happen, or I'd have to work with you a little more on not altering events. There's no harm in knowing _how_ something's already changed."

I couldn't believe him. "But _I'm_ changing things! I-I could cause someone t-to—"

"It wouldn't be because of you," he argued. "Believe it or not, but one new person in the universe doesn't mean time revolves around them. Time is able to adjust to small changes. If something is different while you're around, it's because time is simply adding you into the equation. If, say, I get hurt because you were two inches to the left, causing me to be two inches to the left as well, that doesn't make it your fault. It makes it the fault of whoever hurt me, understand?" His expression softened. "You've already put so much blame on yourself, Becky. There's no need to add more."

"W-What's… What's going to happen?" I murmured, still scared about what this meant, but he smiled.

"Well, Martha's on board for good now and you need at least another day or so of rest to ensure your ribs are completely settled. After that? Who knows! Maybe I'll let you pick this time. Past or future."

I looked at him in shock. "Y-You're not going to leave me? O-Or lock me up?"

"Why would I do that?" He asked, stepping away completely and ruffling my hair as he always did. "You're of no harm to anybody, Becky. Time-sensitive, ridiculously clever, never-dying, human Becky. You and me? We're going to run like we've never run before."

And just like that, it felt like the world had finally lifted from my shoulders. Tears started to well up once more and the Doctor hastily scrambled about to try and keep me from crying, but I let out a laugh. Quite possibly the first true, happy laugh I'd made in decades, stopping him in his tracks.

"T-Thank you, Doctor. I-I just… T-Thank you."

He cracked a smile and gave me another brief hug and a kiss to the top of my head. "If anyone should be thanking anyone, I should be thanking _you._"

"Me? What for?"

"Well, I've got a life-long traveling buddy now. Never really had one of those before."

My heart sank, realizing what he meant as he turned away and dug around for something nearby. _He's only got humans. He lives for who-knows-how-long and all this time, he's only ever had to watch them leave or die or fade away. And now… now I'm the same._ It made me feel lonely, but only for a moment before I realized he was right. We had each other now, and I'd really lucked out finding him that night when I'd appeared in that alleyway.

"Oh, by the way! I found this in the console room earlier and remember you said something about a rabbit," he hummed, holding out a very familiar face that made my eyes widen.

"Mister Smith!" I gaped, taking it from him and looking it over. "It's… H-He's exactly the same. Everything! It's…"

The Doctor's hand rested on my head, drawing my gaze back up to him. "Gift from the Tardis then. How lucky is that? She must adore you."

I cracked a grin, finally feeling happy for the first time in a long while and hastily pulling the Doctor into a hug of my own.

"I can't thank you enough."

He just chuckled and pat my back. After all, this was going to be the beginning of a very long friendship.


End file.
